


Night, Sleep, Death, Stars

by wunderbar



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Fae & Fairies, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderbar/pseuds/wunderbar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Cabot had just met Sarah Williams through a rather eventful (and painful) encounter. </p><p>Why the bloody hell was she calling him the Goblin King then?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

When the Goblin Kingdom crumbled, a tremor rippled through the Underground.  
  
Oberon, the High King of the Fae, felt it as a sharp tug in his chest, strong enough to make him gasp as he was in the midst of holding court. It was nothing like he had ever felt before, almost as if his blood ran red-hot and pierced the underside of his flesh. The throne room was shocked into silence as they watched the ancient king nearly pitch himself to the floor. The air crackled with uncertainty and fear; whatever the king felt the subjects also did, although not as keenly.  
  
As quickly as it had come, however, the pain receded and Oberon was left clutching the sides of his throne, his knuckles white and his breaths coming in rasps. Dread prickled at the base of his spine and his heart thudded wildly against his chest.  
  
“Sire—” His manservant and faithful friend, Goodfellow, could be heard approaching him. Quickly, he raised his palm in a defiant gesture. Goodfellow froze in his tracks, and the king struggled to control his breathing.  
  
A booming crash sounded as the doors to the throne room burst open. The footfall following it was light yet hurried, and the tell-tale whisper of silk against stone could be heard. A low murmuring threaded through the crowd like leaves rustling through a dry forest.  
  
“Oberon,” Titania said, and there was a slight tremble in her voice. Oberon lifted his head, his eyes meeting those of his mercurial queen. The High Queen stood not twenty paces from him, the crowd having parted to give her free access to his path, but she walked no further. Her skin was lily-white and shone with moonlight, but her eyes were the color of a churning sea. Her face wore an expression that Oberon had never seen before. “Husband.”  
  
_Fear._ That was what it was called. In all the millennia that Oberon had been in existence, he could count with one hand the instances that that emotion had ever gripped him, more so his wife and queen. A shudder passed through him unwillingly as the reason for his wife’s arrival and the odd, heavy feeling that had descended on the whole kingdom suddenly came to light.  
  
Curled on his tongue was a single name, the one being in all of the Above and Underground that held both their hearts in the palm of his hand. His stomach lurched as he met Titania’s eyes once more, watching as she gave him the slightest of nods.  
  
“Jareth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG a new story when I haven't even finished the others yet. I'm so sorry, guys. I haven't abandoned the others but work ran me over like a truck and then...David Bowie died. It really bummed me out for quite a while. I don't think I'm actually fully recovered yet. 
> 
> Anyway, Labyrinth was one of my favorites as a kid and I wanted to explore the idea of a human!Jareth...somewhat. I won't give it all away now. This is also loosely based on another fanfic that I'd read before on ff.net: Within Dreams by jinx1764 (it's a brilliant fic -- go read it if you have the time), but mine will have its own twists and turns.


	2. Chapter 2

Against the ashy light of a New York winter’s morning, Sarah blearily opened her eyes. She had no idea what time it was and had no immediate desire to know. The only thing she was definite of was that it was a Sunday, the sole day in her hectic week that she could fully claim for herself before she once more threw herself into work for another 40-plus-hour grind, and therefore the one day in her schedule when she could allow herself a moment’s peace to wallow within the confines of her skin-warm sheets.  
  
She lay in bed for several more minutes, resolutely ignoring the dull ache in her temples that she had woken up with. She frowned at the thought that she had been dreaming of something last night that seemed fairly important, but none of it remained now, disappearing swiftly as she blinked away the last remnants of sleep.  
  
_Strange,_ Sarah thought. Her dreams, following her and Toby’s eventful trip to the Underground nearly fifteen years before, had always been especially vivid, the images often staying with her long after opening her eyes and allowing her ample time to work them through enough to put them on paper, mostly for her own catharsis. Eventually it had been useful, especially in her remaining school years. Her exposure to the Underground had seemingly unlocked in her an enormous potential of creative talent and her work easily became the most cutting-edge of the lot, often being cited as the ‘most surreal’ or the ‘most otherworldly’, and attracting her enough attention to be hounded for design jobs even before she graduated from university. In the long run it had landed her current job as a Senior Designer at one of the largest publishing houses in the country, located in the heart of the city. At just 29, she had an extensive portfolio, a multitude of awards under her belt, a position most people her age couldn’t get until they were at least middle-aged, and a fat paycheck that came every month and enabled her to afford all the small luxuries her heart desired.  
  
Sarah Williams, in essence, could already claim she had it all, but that was something she could never find comfort in doing so. She felt as if she was still waiting for something to happen, as if Real Life had been relegated to the wings while the Goblin King’s proffered crystal let her live a life of sugar-spun dreams. Sarah had always been fairly adamant that she had accepted none of what the Goblin King had proposed to her, but a small secret place in her heart told her the success she now had in her life had come much too easily, and she couldn’t help but always remind herself that it could easily be taken away again.  
  
(His voice still haunted her, the memory of his strange mismatched eyes rarely giving her a moment’s peace: _I have been generous up 'til now. I can be cruel._ )  
  
Sarah jerked awake as her clock radio suddenly blared to life, nearly making her jump out of her skin. It was 6AM, the announcer said, and the weather that day was going to be in the high 50s. No more heavy snow days and, everyone hoped, only a few more weeks until spring arrived.  
  
With a sigh, Sarah shook out of her reverie and started getting ready to go on her weekly jog. Far from being a sports nut, she found that the discipline of maintaining some sort of physical routine refreshed her and reset her for the week ahead. During the hour and a half that she allowed herself to cut through the quiet Brooklyn streets, always with no fixed path in mind, she somehow regained her focus and center. Ironic, with the task being similar to what she had undertaken in the Labyrinth. But no, she had often told herself, she was not lost in this city. This was her home. There were no baby brothers that she had to retrieve, and certainly no damnable Goblin Kings with honeyed words and double-edged promises.  
  
“I’ll be right back, you guys,” she called out to her empty apartment as she shoved her keys into the pocket of her tracksuit. No one answered of course, but she always gave herself a minute to wait, usually with bated breath. She hadn’t seen Hoggle, Sir Didymus, or Ludo ever since that night that they had started an impromptu party to celebrate her victorious triumph over Jareth, but she had never lost the belief that they may still be watching, and she wanted to make sure that they knew she was there in case they wanted to cross over.  
  
As she waited in the doorway with her ears strained, a tiny part of her hoped this would be the day she would hear from any of them: a glimpse of orange fur, or a gnarled hand clutching the sides of her mirror; a high-pitched laugh, or a low growl of disapproval. When a minute passed and no answer came, Sarah released the breath she was holding, her chest tight with disappointment, before letting herself out and locking the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Not many New Yorkers particularly enjoyed the city in winter. In fact, Sarah had yet to find someone else in the East Coast apart from herself who truly enjoyed being there for the entirety of the season. Sooner or later the pristine snow that made for pretty Christmas cards would turn to gray slush, ill-maintained pipes would freeze and burst, and sidewalks would be nearly impossible to walk on, the pavement usually thick with ice. During those times, Karen and her father often called her up from Westchester, bemoaning the never-ending chore of shoveling. All too often, they also criticized her for not coming home enough despite them not really minding trekking to the city with Toby in tow whenever their schedules aligned (which, really, was several times a year). Remembering that it had only been two days since Sarah had spoken to her parents about the exact same topics, she found it hard not to lightheartedly roll her eyes in mock exasperation as she jogged from one street to the next.  
  
Crown Street, then Albany. Maybe she’d go to Eastern Parkway? The cold air was refreshing and made her eyes sting. Few people were awake at that hour, in that weather. This was when she liked the city best: familiar, yet unfamiliar, the elements having stripped it down to its essentials. It stirred within her a strange sense of excitement, of her living in a place that could change its appearance in such a vast, stark manner.  
  
A small voice popped unwelcome into her head as she rounded the corner. _Sounds familiar,_ it said, and somewhere in her mind flashed the memory of the Goblin King’s sharp-toothed smile. Sarah frowned.  
  
“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath as she picked up her pace and rounded yet another corner, changing her path on a whim so it would lead her to Bedford Avenue, rather than what she had originally intended. She saw the other person too late – her momentum too great for her to stop, she crashed soundly into him, her forehead slamming into a part of his face, the resounding _crack_ ringing out in the still air as bone met bone.  
  
“Argh!”  
  
“Shit—!”  
  
Sarah felt herself falling over backward from the force of the collision, her vision seeing nothing but sky until two hands hurriedly grabbed her waist, and with sheer dumb luck, maneuvered her in such a way that she fell forward instead. She was even more stunned when, seconds after hitting the ground it wasn’t the pavement that met her. Her palms were solidly placed on someone’s chest, a heartbeat that wasn’t hers drumming fast against her skin.  
  
“OWWW. Oh _bloody hell_!”  
  
With a yelp, Sarah recovered herself and scrambled to get her to feet. She didn’t hurt anywhere, apart from the tender spot on her forehead that had hit the other person. The man – for it was a man, looking slightly disheveled, his face covered up by a large thatch of blonde hair that swept down his forehead and his hands that seemed to want to protect his nose from any further damage – groaned in pain, his eyes squeezed shut as he moved to curl up in on himself. At the sight of him, panic coursed through Sarah’s veins, the fear of being sued instantly on the forefront of her mind.  
  
“Oh my God!” She knelt beside the stranger, unsure of what to do but certain she had to do _something._ “Are you all right?”  
  
“I’m not sure being clocked by someone’s skull is anyone’s idea of a good morning, darling.” The stranger’s voice was muffled underneath his fingers, but held a strong undercurrent of pain. “Jesus, I think I may be bleeding…”  
  
The mention of blood made Sarah’s heart leap to her throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was behind that corner! I live a few blocks away so if you can stand…”  
  
The man had gingerly removed his hands from his face as if to do further damage inspection. His face was slightly turned away but his palms were bloodstained. “Ah, shit,” he said, staring down at his palms. “That’s going to hurt in the morning.”  
  
Without turning to her, he heaved himself up with a groan and approached the nearest snowbank. Before Sarah could stop him, he had scooped up a handful and brushed it against his face. Sarah grimaced at his actions, but more on the cleanliness and quality of snow that he was using than anything else.  
  
“Look, it’s really no trouble. I have ice and warm water and some bandages if you’d need it…” She didn’t approach him as he went about his ministrations, knowing full well that getting too close to strangers in New York could very well escalate into an undesirable experience. The stranger ignored her and she watched warily as he scooped up two more palms full of snow and rubbed it gently against the lower part of his face. She heard him shudder, but whether from the pain or the cold, she was uncertain.  
  
“Don’t trouble yourself, darling. I’ve had far worse than this,” the stranger spoke. Although he sounded congested, his tone was kind and…familiar. “It wouldn’t be wise either for a young lady to be inviting strange men up to her apartment.”  
  
He turned to face her at last, probably satisfied that he was cleaned up enough now. When he brushed his hair away from his forehead, Sarah felt her heart stutter. Her jaw dropped open, unbelieving who it was that was standing in front of her.  
  
"YOU!” she exclaimed. She’d know that face anywhere. Although the stranger was still holding a hand protectively against his nose, Jareth’s mismatched eyes stared back at her in genuine surprise.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“It’s you!” she pointed an accusing finger at him. Her knees suddenly felt weak. From fear? Surprise? She couldn’t really say. “The Goblin King!”  
  
“What in the world…” Jareth looked thoroughly confused. “Goblin King?”  
  
“Yes!” Sarah held up her palm as the Goblin King took a step towards her. “No, stay away from me!”  
  
“Bloody hell.” Jareth stopped in his tracks. He held up his own palm as though to calm her, and maybe to even protect himself. “All right. Just take a breath and calm down. Seems you might have gotten off worse in our little mishap after all.”  
  
“I’m perfectly fine and I know exactly who you are,” Sarah retorted, infuriated at this little game. Her initial fear had given away to anger. How dare he? Did he _forget_ about her? “And you know exactly who I am.”  
  
The man in front of her gave her an odd look, as if pondering on whether or not she had been dropped on her head as a child.  
  
“I’m fairly sure that I’ve never seen you before in my life, up until the time you graciously broke my nose. _Madame._ ” He gave her an exasperating smile. Sarah hated how he still managed to look dignified despite having a good part of his face bloodied and bruised. He held his chin aloft. “I’m James Cabot. You are?”  
  
“Sarah,” she answered, although a good part of her quickly derided herself for giving her name away so easily. When she saw no recognition on his face, her annoyance increased and she added, “Williams.”  
  
“Sarah Williams.” ‘James’ said her name as though testing it on his tongue. He held out his free hand for her to shake. The other still held the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. “Pleasure.”  
  
Sarah took his hand warily, half expecting his touch to instantly send her off to another realm. His hand engulfed hers, his skin cold from the snow. She held on to it longer than she intended. When James took it back, he looked equally perturbed, yet curious. She was able to see him properly now: his hair was short and a soft gold, his skin tanned in a way that seemed as though he’d played tennis all summer. He wore an expensive-looking caramel-colored coat over what looked like a salt-and-pepper sports coat and shirt, dark jeans, and boots. Around his neck was a cashmere scarf.  
  
He wore the same face and carried himself similarly, but this was not Jareth. But…how?  
  
“You’re not him,” she breathed. Disappointment, bitter and unexpected, made her throat tighten. Her rational mind was running at a hundred miles a minute. James almost looked sorry for her.  
  
“Always been James, sorry,” he said. He peered at her face. “Whoever that fellow was, I’m sorry now that I’m not him. Old fling?”  
  
Sarah threw him a dirty look. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”  
  
James threw up his palms in surrender. “Apologies. That was rude. I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t know where _you_ came from either, and look where it’s gotten me.” He smiled at his own joke. It was a grin that Jareth never would have worn. James lacked the wolfish, almost predatory features the Goblin King had, but the same amount of mischief seemed to twinkle in his eyes. Sarah shuddered, briefly wondering whether this strange experience was the proof to existing parallel worlds.  
  
“Your eyes…” She gestured at her own face with her fingers, figuring it was less rude than pointing out the features in question. James already seemed to have known the question was coming and didn’t give her a chance to continue.  
  
“Oh that. Don’t worry, that’s not your doing. This chap I was in school with threw a punch at me when I was around fifteen or so over a girl. Nearly blinded me, but I see through it fine now.”  
  
Sarah had never been able to ask Jareth regarding his own eyes but she imagined the cause for it would never have been as normal as that. Being reminded of the Goblin King now as James stood in front of her made her slightly queasy, however, and she found she could not stand this strange, more fallible version of him.  
  
“I see,” she said. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Around them, the sounds of a slow-waking city were beginning to increase in volume. Doors were swinging open and slamming shut as people made their usual morning rounds. She didn’t want a crowd to gather and start gawking at their predicament so she cleared her throat, meaning to now start the end of their conversation. Her voice escaped with a slight stutter. “Well…if you’re all right…”  
  
_Damn it,_ she scolded herself. _Just walk away._  
  
James had gotten a handkerchief from his pocket and was holding it to his face delicately. He gave her another exasperating smile.  
  
“It really _depends_ on what you mean by ‘all right’, darling, but I’ll live, I can assure you that.”  
  
His answer rankled at her for some reason, as though he was intentionally trying to annoy her. She was also pretty sure he used the term ‘darling’ on purpose when he’d already stopped doing so after learning her name. Heat prickled up and down her skin as her temper, already quite frayed from her insistent headache, snapped.  
  
“If you need to contact me for any hospital bills or anything, go to BigBadWolf Publishing in the City. It’s uptown, right near Museum Mile. We’ll course any remuneration through there.” Her tone was brisk and clipped. She wanted nothing more than an excuse to get out of there as quickly as she could.  
  
James looked aghast at her offer. “Remuneration? I don’t know what you think of me, Madame, but I can assure you I will ask nothing of the sort. This unfortunate incident was not your intention, after all.”  
  
Sarah found the courage to glare at him. She was a lawyer’s daughter, after all, and she could raise hell with the best of them. “Your physician’s bills might state otherwise, and being sued for personal injury or assault is not high on my list of priorities at the moment. My offer will stand, whether or not you take it or leave it.”  
  
Her tone was quite impersonal, and that only seemed to infuriate James more. His brow furrowed. “I assure you, I will not—”  
  
Sarah cut him off before he could finish, her own rudeness surprising even her. She stared at the man-who-could-be-Jareth-but-was-not him, the disappointment, odd and disarming, washing over her like a wave.  
  
“I have to go, Mr. Cabot. I’m sorry we had to meet like this but I’ll not bother you any longer. Good day.” She raised her chin before turning around and quickly running the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adding this one in. Happy Easter!


	3. Chapter 3

James Cabot sat in the 4 train that he’d caught off of Kingston, slightly dizzy and thoroughly confused. Had it been a normal day, he would have just caught a cab to ride back to the city, but his mind was in disarray and he needed to sit down and reflect on what just happened before he got fussed over. The subway seemed the best option, especially this early in the morning, and provided him the space and the white noise to think. He had sat down on one of the seats at the far end, gently cradling his face in his hand, the electric screeching of the train as it hurtled through the tunnels providing a nice background soundtrack to his thoughts.  
  
He had to admit, his life had always been far from ordinary but never had he been left so bereft and bamboozled as he had been by that morning’s encounter. The girl had come from nowhere and he had been so shocked by it all that he had barely had enough time to catch her before she fell backward onto the icy pavement, thus preventing what he was sure would have been a terrible head injury. She hadn’t seemed to have noticed his efforts, however, and their meeting had ended quite badly, with him having a possible broken nose in addition to a bruised ego.  
  
He supposed karma was up to its old tricks again. No sooner had he landed in JFK from D.C. he had gone to one of Williamsburg’s watering holes to celebrate his emancipation from his most recent consulting contract. He mostly worked at international diplomatic organizations – the UN, the World Bank Group, and all that – as a ‘consulting economist’, a position he practically invented for himself but worked to his advantage as he was never tied down with any one company at a time. Organizations chased him relentlessly for him to fill a more permanent position, eager for him to contribute more than 6 months at a time, but James would always refuse, and the next year, another consulting contract would come in. They could not afford not to have him, and normally would just allow him the arrangement he preferred.  
  
In his view, it was less messy and less rigid. Permanence to him was not a priority, which was how he found himself in an unknown apartment in Brooklyn as dawn broke that morning after an eventful night at Maison Premiere, an unfamiliar female half-dressed on the bed beside him, his own clothes in equal disarray but, thankfully, still mostly on him. The night before had been enhanced with absinthe, lots of it, and it had raised his cockiness to dangerous levels. He remembered she was the sister of the cousin of the husband of one of his work colleagues who’d picked him up from his sister’s home, but after the third round of drinks and oysters, things had started getting hazy.  
  
Maisie — or was it Daisy? — didn’t even know he had left, still too deeply asleep as he buttoned up, gathered his coat, and slowly sneaked out the door, making sure he left no sign of his ever being there. Meeting Sarah Williams, he was sure, was an instant-retribution for that callous act, although he did think an almost-broken appendage was just a tad too much punishment.  
  
(Christ Almighty, his face _hurt_.)  
  
The young lady—because she was definitely young, she couldn’t have even been older than twenty-nine, at least—had initially stared at him like he was a ghost. It had even frightened James for a fraction of a second, making him wonder if he had met the girl during one of his social rounds. He did have a nasty habit of forgetting names and faces of people he didn’t care to remember, but no, he would have remembered a face like Sarah Williams’, with her bottle-green eyes and her rose-petal lips.  
  
He now recalled the expression on her face as she recognized in him someone he didn’t know. Fear, surprise, and maybe even delight? It was so strange, yet in that instant, it had endeared her to him. She had worn a bright neon yellow jacket over her skin-tight running leggings, the material of which was festooned with a leopard spot pattern in varying shades of dull grey, and shockingly pink-and-yellow trainers to match.  It was an outfit which, had it been worn by another person, James would have either rolled his eyes or sneered at. But on Sarah, rather than looking like a traffic sign gone wrong, her appeal seemed all the greater.  
  
His heart gave a strange little stutter as he recalled her face once more.  
  
He was definitely greatly attracted, but there was something else that was pulling him in, urging him to give Sarah a second look. Something, there was _something_ , and he couldn’t in his mind figure out just _what.  
  
_ “Oh, get a grip, Cabot,” he muttered to himself, half-angry at how he’d gotten himself in this situation. His face was throbbing and becoming quite heated, and he wondered if he had to see a doctor for it. The thought drove him back to Sarah and how her expression had suddenly closed off to him near the end of their meeting. She’d been quite arrogant about the whole situation and James had felt irrationally aggravated by her manner. It had almost been as if she had been daring him complain. The cheek! Although he had, admittedly, at times been quite the scoundrel, the innate sense of being a gentleman that had been drummed into him since he was young shone through most of the time. He would have never taken advantage of a situation like that, more so that it was a young lady.  
  
And yet, something was reeling him back to her like a siren song. It was an utterly bizarre feeling, and James teetered between anxiety and excitement at the uncertainty of it all. It wasn’t the first time a girl had fully gotten his attention, but this was definitely the first time he had had felt a hint of trepidation with the euphoria that came with the attraction, and that was enough for him to be adequately enraptured.  
  
 _I should go humour her just to see what she’d do,_ he mused. He nearly smiled at the thought until his fingers touched the tender skin around his nose. The pain that erupted and shot through to his skull nearly made his eyes water. Although it had already stopped bleeding, he would definitely look a right mess in a few hours.  
  
“Challenge accepted, Sarah Williams,” he muttered under his breath. He was only too glad to play this game.

 

* * *

 

It was still not quite light out when he reached his sister’s home, a lush 5-bedroom townhouse in Soho’s historic district, despite it already being nearly 8AM. The live-in househelp, Paula, let him in without question. He was quite thankful the hallway was still draped in shadow as it covered a good portion of his face, leaving the usually sharp-sighted woman with no comment on the state of it.  
  
The winter sunlight that had

managed to leak in through the windows looked like smoke, bathing the house in varying shades of rose and grey. It was a bit like a dream world, and for a fleeting moment, he saw Sarah in his mind’s eye, her arresting gaze focusing on him from across a crowded room…  
  
 _What?_ James drew his thoughts to a halt. His head was pounding and he wasn't sure if it was because of his near-concussion or a hangover starting to kick in.  _What nonsense. You’ve really done yourself in, Cabot. Get your arse into bed.  
  
_ “Your things have been brought upstairs, Mr. Cabot,” Paula told him as he made his way towards the stairs, nearly missing the baby gate that stood sentry at the bottom.  
  
“Thank you, Paula.” The housekeeper’s voice was enough to send the entirety of his mind and being hurtling back to earth. He noted the gate and raised his foot in time, saving himself from another mishap. “Are…ah…my sister and Peter awake yet?”  
  
Paula shook her head, the neat little bun that sat atop it not even budging.  
  
“They said they'd be up a little late today as they had taken the children out last night to watch a play. Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz wanted me to extend their thanks to you if I saw you first. The children were quite animated after coming home.”  
  
James smiled in spite of himself. It had been habit to gift Olivia and her family something whenever he came over to stay. The Broadway tickets for the new Peter Pan musical had been sent over a week before, to be used at their earliest convenience. He was glad it had been last night; it would at least allow him some quiet time now before his family inevitably flocked over him.  
  
“Thank you, Paula.”  
  
“Oh, and Mr. Cabot?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Should you need them, there are painkillers in your room’s bathroom. That’s where Mr. Schwartz keeps them.”  
  
He barely missed the knowing twinkle in the older woman’s flint-gray eyes before she gave him a small nod and promptly turned her back on him, heading straight for the kitchen. James nearly gaped at her retreating back but then found himself giving a small chuckle instead.   
  
Paula reminded him entirely of the nanny he and Olivia had had growing up, tailing them even as they had shuttled between England for school and the countries that their diplomat father was assigned in, and acting like a second mother whenever their own mother couldn't, given the frequency of her own travels and the demands her own profession as a university professor warranted. They hadn't been neglected at the very least; in fact, their mother and father had still been quite involved despite their schedules and physical absences, trusting Tiggy to show up at school when needed and to give them reports on their activities. The fact that Olivia had gotten someone with a similar personality for her own children hadn't surprised him at all.  
  
Now that the excitement had waned and it had been brought to his attention, James could now feel the pain in his face more acutely. The throbbing seemed to reach deep into his brain, making him slightly nauseous. His room was one specifically reserved for him for when he visited and was on the top floor. By the time he reached it however, he was dizzy beyond belief and more exhausted than he imagined he’d be.  
  
“Criminy,” he muttered to himself as he stumbled into his bathroom, flipping on the switch as he entered. Maybe he had been injured worse than he thought? He hadn't lied to Sarah, however; he'd had worse. It would take more than a careless collision to take him down.  
  
He quickly talked himself out of overthinking it, deciding the best medicine to it was some rest. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror as he downed two Tylenol with a swig of water. It wasn’t looking particularly terrible yet, but the skin on his nose and under his eyes was starting to take on a mottled pattern, the slight yellow-green color made more apparent by the sudden paleness of his face. Common sense told him ice would probably work wonders, but he was too exhausted now to begin a trek downstairs. He’ll let it be for the moment and attend to it in a few hours.  
  
He took a quick shower to clean himself up and, upon changing into a fresh shirt and tracksuit bottoms, collapsed into his still-made bed. He groaned as the motion set forth a fresh wave of throbbing pain across his entire head, prompting him to cover his eyes with his hand as a means for comfort.  
  
 _I’ll get a kip in, if only for this headache,_ he thought, annoyed that he could be downed so easily. He chalked it up to the alcohol still possibly lingering in his system, stress, and the long, late nights he had to pull the last few weeks of work. James mused that he had never felt as bone-tired in all thirty-seven years of his life.  
  
“‘I grow old…I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled…’” he found himself mumbling, no longer able to keep his eyes open. Words from the old poem collected in his skull, smoothing out his thoughts and giving him a brief respite from the pain.  
  
 _Shall I part my hair behind?  
  
_ _Do I dare to eat a peach…_  
  
Unbeknownst to him, a small smile formed on his lips as he ungraciously and quite suddenly plunged headlong into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem is 'The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock' by T.S. Eliot.


	4. Chapter 4

Back in her apartment, Sarah Williams wanted to scream.  
  
She had made sure to run straight back home after that morning’s encounter, too shaken up to continue her trail. Twice she had glanced back to make sure she wasn’t being followed. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that there was always a sharp stab of disappointment when she realized the streets were empty behind her as she made her way home.  
  
She started tearing off her running kit as soon as she got back and promptly ran a hot shower. Her heart was pounding like a war drum and she had the urge to hurl last night’s Jamaican jerk chicken and rice into the toilet. As the hot water cascaded down her skin and steam curled on the porcelain by her feet, she tried to collect herself enough to gather her thoughts.  
  
 _What_ had just happened? How could she have met a man with Jareth’s face? How could it _not_ be Jareth? Why did she _feel_ this way?!  
  
Her heartbeat was still unnaturally fast, making her a bit light-headed. A part of her wanted to attribute it to the short-burst sprint she did to head back home, but she knew better. Warm desire, basal, and familiar, pooled in her gut at the thought of the-man-who-wasn’t-Jareth and his disarming smile, and she battled between wanting to puke right there and then and slumping against the wall with her head in her hands.  
  
 _Are you crazy?!_ Her mind practically screamed at her. Rational thought told her that the man (Jason? Jacob? Why did they all have to start with the same letter?) could have very well been a stalker, a serial killer, a murderer, _anyone_ capable of doing her harm. This was New York City. He could have been anyone!  
  
(But _oh,_ how she’d wanted it to be Jareth, in those few precious seconds suspended between surprise and fear, right before reality proved it otherwise.)  
  
“ _Stop it.”_ She growled at herself, refusing to be allowed to regress to teenage daydreams. Not that she ever _did,_ too fearful was she that the Goblin King could openly read her thoughts and desires despite no longer being trapped in his realm. If there was one thing she knew, it was not to underestimate Jareth, despite the radio silence from him and the rest of his kingdom the past fifteen years. Apart from the vibrant and often nonsensical dreams that she’d been getting since then, there was little else that could convince her that her and Toby’s misadventure in the Labyrinth did actually take place.  
  
Jareth definitely existed somewhere. Whether or not he was _that_ man remained to be seen, but Sarah figured she had probably seen the last of him. The man had looked mortally offended when she had offered him a means to track her down for compensation. She didn’t doubt he was one of those _proper_ people, with impeccable manners to match their polished accents, who didn’t even discuss money at the dinner table. She was quite certain he was not going to entertain her offer at all.  
  
 _Definitely not Jareth,_ she decided, knowing that the Goblin King, regal as he might have been, would not have all been that proper. _Just someone unlucky enough to share his features.  
  
_ “You have no power over me, Goblin King,” she said out loud, wanting to clear her mind of Jareth once and for all. Her voice echoed throughout her small, steam-covered bathroom. “Not today.”  
  
A beat, then slowly, a sense of calm started to spread throughout her body, loosening her tense muscles and stiffened joints. Satisfied at her rationalizations, Sarah resolved to finish her shower without incident. Her forehead now throbbed where the man’s face had hit it, but her headache, thankfully, was now gone. She would put ice on it once she finished, then make herself a nice slow lunch. She’d finish reading the book sitting on her bedside table, then later, would give her parents a call. It was a Sunday, _her_ Sunday, and no strange morning encounter was going to ruin it for her.  
  
 _Not today._


	5. Chapter 5

He had been dreaming of peaches, he was sure of it. He didn’t remember if he had been eating them in the dream or what exactly he had been doing with them, but there had been peaches, and music, and from somewhere a soft touch at his elbow, urging him to dance.  
  
 _Jareth,_ a voice was saying, and for some reason he felt jolted, like he was a glaring note gone wrong in what should have been a flawless symphony.  
  
“I’m not Jareth,” he had started to say, but the dream had ended as quickly as it had begun, and he awoke to two small fingers pinching the end of his nose, his nephew’s crumb-flecked face inches in front of his own.  
  
“Uncle James,” Kit said, sky-blue eyes wide and worried. “You were talking in your sleep.”  
  
James blinked, not feeling entirely _there_ yet. He felt disoriented and slightly off-kilter. Thankfully, his headache had faded to a dull roar and the pain in his face wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. It seemed the Tylenol and the nap had worked after all. “Was I?”  
  
Kit nodded solemnly, resting a cheek on the navy blue bedspread. “Mummy asked me to come get you for brunch.”  
  
“Did she now?” James peeked at the clock on his bedside table: 11:30 on the dot. His room was still enrobed in shadows however as the shades were down. It was a wonder Kit hadn’t been scared to come in. “Did you just wake up?”  
  
“Not really. But Mummy told me to tell you to go down as soon as you can.” Kit was moving into his bed as he spoke, eventually settling to nuzzle like a bear cub against his side. James smiled and held him close, enjoying his nephew’s spontaneous company. Marriage was something he would forever do a double-take on; child-rearing, however, was not. Doting on his sister’s children was truly one of his favorite pastimes.  
  
“What are you doing then? Do you want a nap?” Kit giggled as James tickled his side lightly.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Did you miss me?”  
  
“We watched Peter Pan yesterday. I’ll draw it for you so you can see.”  
  
“Did you like it?” James felt his nephew’s face rub against his ribs as he nodded.  
  
“I wish you were there. But you’re here now. You were gone so loooong,” Kit whined, draping a pajama-clad arm over his chest.  
  
“I have to work, Rocket.”  
  
“Then work _here._ ” Small hands bunched up in his shirt. “Work here and live here.”  
  
Normally, James would brush a suggestion like that off, but his morning had already been strange enough. The image of Sarah Williams nudged his mind once more, and he briefly entertained Kit’s proposition, imagining a settled life in the city. Somehow, the thought didn’t seem as repulsive with Sarah in the equation…  
  
“Tell you what,” James said suddenly, preventing his thoughts from going down _that_ road, “let’s go down and have something to eat, then I’ll give your suggestion a little think, all right? Then maybe we can even go to the park later and you can tell me more about Peter Pan…” He scooped up his nephew as he spoke and started heading out of the bedroom. Kit was giggling from all his manhandling so when the boy suddenly gave a surprising shout, James had to stop, alarmed.  
  
“What is it? What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” he asked, horrified at the prospect that he might have accidentally harmed his sister’s oldest son. They were now in the sunlit hallway, and he brushed his nephew’s dark, unruly hair out of his face, looking for any previously undetected wound. There didn’t seem to be any, but Kit was wide-eyed and pointing at him in shock.  
  
“Your face! Uncle James, what happened?”  
  
 _Oh._ James winced. There was a mirror nearby and he was able to see that the bruises on his face had now darkened to an ugly purple over the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, made more apparent by the white walls that surrounded them. “It’s nothing, darling, don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Did you fight with someone?” Kit looked as if he wanted to touch but thankfully didn’t, keeping his hands firmly on James’ shoulders. “Does it hurt? Do you need a bandaid? I have some and you can have some, but…” his face made the abrupt change to five-year-old seriousness, “not the Star Wars ones. Anything but the Star Wars ones. I’m saving them.”  
  
“That’s all right, I think I’ll be fine, Rocket, thank you,” James smiled to ease his nephew’s worry. They had continued their trek downstairs, the scent of coffee and freshly-baked bread now thick in the air. The sounds of tiny fists banging against a high chair could be heard from the dining area, as well as a toddler singing about apples and bananas. Kit, obviously knowing the ridiculous song, lit up and chimed in, announcing their arrival.  
  
“Kit? James?” Olivia’s voice was quite distinctive. “Is that finally you then?”  
  
He didn’t see his sister right away, although there was a big enough audience waiting for them in the dining room. The youngest, Charlotte, squealed wordlessly upon seeing them, clapping her milk-stained hands as Kit sang his song louder. Thomas was in his own seat, happily holding a piece of fruit in each fist, now content to just listen to his older brother sing the song he had been belting out just moments before. He also looked equally ecstatic to see his uncle despite the state he was in, and James couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and fondness for the little creatures. He loved his nephews and niece very much indeed.  
  
“Mumma! Unc’a James!” Thomas said, his smile so large you’d think he was being presented with a Disney mascot instead. Olivia appeared suddenly from the kitchen, dressed in an oversized cable-knit sweater over black leggings, her pale blonde hair pulled back into a pristine ponytail.  She saw them just as they emerged from the stairs and the expression on her face as she took in the sight in front of her was so priceless James immediately regretted not having his mobile on him to record it. _Blasted trousers not having any pockets!  
  
_ “What in— James, what on _Earth_ happened to _you_?” His older sister’s mouth was agape as she scanned her eyes over his entire frame, a rather undignified look for one Olivia Cabot-Schwartz, supreme role model and overlord of all Soho mothers.  
  
“Mummy, Uncle James has some scratchies. But I can help make it better!” Kit announced, wriggling from James’ hold so much that he had to put him down. Olivia didn’t seem to have heard, and Paula was quick to shepherd Kit into the kitchen with a promise of a pudding pop just so he wasn’t underfoot. With his scene-stealer gone, James braced himself for the onslaught.  
  
“Were you _mugged_?” Olivia asked, voice rising in pitch with panic.  
  
Possibly sensing her mother’s distress, Charlotte immediately started crying. Wearing an equally dismayed and bemused expression, Thomas didn’t look far behind. Paula was fortunately quick to the rescue by swooping in and carrying the boy to the kitchen with the excuse to keep his brother company, therefore keeping the count of crying toddlers to one.  
  
“Now you’ve upset the baby,” James said, picking up Charlotte and rocking her in his arms. He gave the two-year-old a kiss on the crown of her head, then ran his fingers through the toddler’s strawberry blonde ringlets, gently working through the knots. He noted smugly that she quickly stopped fussing as soon as she was able to nuzzle against him, much like her oldest brother had done.  
  
“ _I’ve_ upset the baby?” Olivia said incredulously. Her eyes looked nearly ready to pop out of her head, which would have been funny if he weren’t the cause for concern. She peered at his face, her own now only inches before his. “You look like you were in a bar fight! Were you?”  
  
“Nothing of the sort.” He kissed Charlotte on the forehead before surrendering his niece to her mother. Olivia carried her for all of two seconds before passing her on to Peter, who had just appeared from the front parlor, looking rumpled and bewildered and ultimately unprepared to handle anything before noon. James found it amusing that his brother-in-law didn’t even question the presence of the child in his arms, just automatically started rocking her to shush her as she started fussing again.  
  
 _Ah, marriage._ The image of Sarah in a white dress was suddenly back with a passion, a small smile now gracing her silken lips…  
  
“Where is the fire here—?” Peter asked, looking between his wife and James. He blinked blearily at the scene, but then his gaze sharpened as he took in his brother-in-law. “Cripes, James, what the hell—” he quickly changed track, realizing he was still within hearing range of the children, “—o Kitty happened to you?”  
  
“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” James replied, slightly and secretly mortified that Sarah had once again crossed his thoughts and in the most inappropriate of ways. As a distraction, he waved his sister away as she started invading more of his personal space, hoping she wouldn’t be able to spot his flushed ears. She was a petite woman, but James took care not to underestimate her. Olivia managed her own very well.  
  
Olivia moved away from his reach and strode briskly to the kitchen on the other end. The tell-tale _thunk_ of ice against plastic and metal was heard and she quickly emerged with a full ice compress that she thrusted towards him. James took it, wincing as the cold touched his skin.  
  
Charlotte had calmed down and was now resting her head against her father’s chest, hiccuping slightly as she observed the adults in her vicinity. Now less distracted, Peter took the opportunity to get a good look at him.  
  
“Jesus, that’s quite a hit. It doesn’t look broken, just badly banged up.” Peter had the same expression James imagined he had when examining damaged bicuspids. “You should still go get it checked, in case.”  
  
James rolled his eyes. He did like his brother-in-law, he just couldn’t take him seriously on some things. Although he didn’t doubt being a celebrity dentist (a dentist _for_ celebrities, and not him being a celebrity as a dentist – there was apparently a distinction) had its own challenges and that it gave his brother-in-law his own merits, James knew for a fact that Peter had never been in a fight all his life, let alone know what a broken nose looked or felt like. Unlike him and Olivia, whose genes had naturally determined they forever be whippet-thin no matter the diet, Peter was of a robust Italian-Jewish stock and had always been bigger and heavier than his peers, saving him from being the school bully’s target despite his shy disposition. James, unfortunately, had more to say about himself on the matter.  
  
“It’ll be fine, Peter.”  
  
“Explain.” Olivia said, her hands on her hips. James could feel her impatience growing and he had half a mind to torture her a bit just for fun. Charlotte made a noise and reached out to him again from her spot in her father’s arms, her pudgy toddler fingers straining towards his direction. He readily obliged and Peter relinquished his hold, Charlotte giggling as she got cuddled and was directed to keep the compress in place against his cheek.  
  
“ _James Alexander Cabot._ ” His sister said, her tone dangerous now. The inclusion of his middle name also implied a threat if he didn’t start cooperating. James nearly stuck out his tongue at her, suddenly feeling quite juvenile at Olivia’s henpecking. Fortunately, the urge to do so quickly passed.  
  
“I ran into a girl.”  
  
Olivia raised her eyebrows.  
  
“…And? Was it someone you knew?” From her tone, she obviously expected a female he’d wronged one way or another had given him his comeuppance. James looked up to give his sister an amused expression.  
  
“No, I quite literally ran into her, Libby.”  
  
“You ran…” Olivia’s expression morphed from irritation to surprise, then amusement with infuriating speed, “…you ran _into_ her.”  
  
“Yes,” James said, although it came out as a muffled “nngs” as Charlotte’s downy curls found their way into his mouth, her head against his neck as she fiddled with the gold necklace he always wore. The ice compress was now creating a damp spot on his shirt.  
  
“How?”  
  
“In my defense, I _was_ minding my own business. She was the one who plowed into me."  
  
“And where did this happen?” Peter asked this time.  
  
“Brooklyn.”  
  
“ _Brooklyn?_ ”  
  
“Yes, and must everyone keep sodding repeating what I’m saying?” James grumbled. He ignored his sister as she threw him a glare for swearing with Charlotte there. “She crashed into me when I was rounding the corner and she was out jogging. I even actually saved her from having a rather nasty accident by letting her fall onto me. She didn’t much appreciate that, let me tell you.”  
  
“Impressive. That shiner then is practically a trophy.”  
  
“Quite.”  
  
Olivia shook her head disapprovingly. “Unbelievable. You’ve not even been back _two days_.”  
  
Peter, probably sensing the beginning of an unnecessary lecture and/or argument, mercifully stepped in before anything could escalate further. It wasn’t the first time he had to referee something between the Cabot siblings. “Okay, okay, all right. I think that’s enough interrogation for now.”  
  
“Interrogation?” Olivia scoffed. “Please. I haven’t even started yet.”  
  
“I know you haven’t,” Peter gave her a kiss on the forehead, a tactic James knew was employed to calm her quickly, “which is why I’m postponing this conversation to until we’ve had something to eat because I’m _starving…_ ”  
  
“Peter!”  
  
“Libby, James is an adult, and he can do whatever he dang well pleases. Besides, he’s not actually broken, bleeding, or dying, so he’ll live til past lunchtime…”  
  
James made a face at his brother-in-law. A mistake, as it sent another wave of pain across his head.  
  
“Thanks, mate.”  
  
Olivia wasn’t done yet. “But, darling, look at his face! Shouldn’t there be a lawsuit or something?” She gestured at him with an open palm. “He looks an absolute fright!”  
  
“Libby, it’s not _so_ bad, for heaven’s sake, come off it…”      
  
“ _IF_ it was unintentional, and I’m sure it most probably _was,_ ” Peter interrupted, then glanced at James to confirm, a gesture to which he quickly nodded to, “then there shouldn’t be any lawsuits involved. It’s an accident. It happens. You can’t sue the pants off everyone you meet on the street just because they stepped on your toe. Besides, I’m sure that girl’s got some bumps of her own, unless she’s got a particularly hard noggin.”  
  
“But his face—!”  
  
“It will _heal,_ love, relax. He’s an _economist_ , not an actor. And it gives him a tough-guy look I’m sure all the other ladies will fall for.” He winked at James and started leading her towards the dining room table – already laden with fresh-baked bread, an assortment of jams and preserves, a tray with at least four different types of cheese, baked eggs, and sliced persimmons and clementines, as well as a fresh pot of coffee and a jug of orange juice – to relieve them all. “Although if you want, James, I do have some contacts if you wanted to get your face checked out. You know, just to be safe. Just say the word.”  
  
“Will do,” James replied, set to ignore the mutterings about to take place between Olivia and her husband. The Tylenol was still mostly working its magic although when Charlotte’s head brushed against his face he couldn’t help but wince. It still felt rather tender.  
  
The thundering of two small pairs of feet from the kitchen signaled the return of Kit and Thomas, now a welcome distraction, the front of their matching palm frond-bedecked pajamas now stained with chocolate. They launched themselves at full weight towards their uncle, nearly knocking him over, as they laughed with glee. There had been a time, not so very long ago, when James could actually carry all three children all at once. However, with Kit already having shot up a few inches since having seen him last and Thomas catching up as well, his carrying of his nephews and niece would now have to be one-on-one. From her spot in his arms, Charlotte giggled at her brothers’ antics, as if aware she’d gotten the prime location.  
  
“Boys!” Olivia exclaimed. “Careful! You almost made your uncle fall over!”  
  
“No, Mummy, Uncle James is strong,” Kit reasoned, holding steadfastly to his leg.  
  
“We missed you, Unc’a James!” Thomas beamed up at him, chocolate-smeared lips giving way to show small, perfect teeth. James smiled as he used the side of his fist to clean up most of the mess on the boy’s face.  
  
The boys immediately began scrabbling in order to be hoisted up to where Charlotte was and it took everyone’s combined efforts to have everyone finally settle down so they could start eating. The children, having already finished their breakfast, were most content sharing their uncle’s lap, simultaneously babbling about space, fairies, and children who fly, and feeding him bits of fruit and bread as he made sure his arms were secure around all three to keep them from accidentally falling.  
  
When brunch was over and Peter offered to give all three kids a bath (with Paula’s help) in order to give the two siblings some alone time together, the sudden silence in the children’s wake was so deafening it made James’ chest tighten.  
  
“Are you all right?”  
  
James blinked at his sister. “Hm?”  
  
“You seem a little out of it.” She frowned. “I know you think I’m a terrible worrier but does your face still hurt? And be honest, now.”  
  
“I took painkillers this morning,” he assured her. He’d given up on the ice compress and it currently sat on the tabletop beside his half-torn croissant. He speared a persimmon quarter with his fork and bit into it, its flesh giving way under his teeth after a satisfying crunch. “And the kids talking my ear off all at the same time can be a bit overwhelming.” He marveled at his niece and nephews. “They’ve grown quite a bit, haven’t they? Last I saw Charlotte, she was a tiny, quiet thing.”  
  
“Yes well, six months is a rather long time, brother dear. You _did_ miss Christmas.”  
  
“I had to work,” James grumbled.  
  
“They loved your gifts though. And the tickets…Kit and Thomas have been wanting to see it since opening night, so they were ecstatic. But you shouldn’t spoil them so,” Olivia said, although her tone was gentle. “They already see you as this mythical creature who only comes once in a blue moon and hangs the stars in the sky.”  
  
James gave his sister a wink. “If by that you mean they _adore_ me, then that’s quite right.”  
  
“Oh God forbid.” Olivia rolled her eyes in mock disdain, curling long ivory fingers around her mug of coffee. She refused to drink tea in America, insisting that it was always ‘made wrong’. Then after, she leaned forward, and James knew she was studying his bruises again. “Seriously, Jamie, your face is utterly _horrible_ to look at. It’s starting to look like a mouldy eggplant. Mummy would have a heart attack at it if she saw you.”  
  
He gave a nonchalant shrug, knowing Olivia was riling him up. He didn’t want to talk about that morning any further, as it might end with him thinking about Sarah again, and God forbid he unwillingly showed his sister his fledgling interest in her.  
  
“It honestly looks worse than it feels.”  
  
Olivia didn’t look one bit that she believed him but quickly changed tack, knowing very well that he would shut her out if she pushed him too hard. “Right,” she said, rubbing her finger on the rim of her mug. “Well what’s she like, then? This woman who ran into you? Athlete-in-training? Mother-of-two taking her kids out in a plastic-covered stroller? American Ninja Warrior?”  
  
James snorted. Another image of Sarah came unbidden again: this time her in that morning’s running outfit, looking extremely peeved at him for no reason he could still fathom. He wanted to kiss her senseless to wipe the frown off her face… _What in actual fuck, Cabot?  
  
_ “You’re ridiculous.”  
  
“Well she could be!”  
  
“I don’t know, Libby, I _barely_ met her…and don’t you start,” he said, effectively shutting his sister down before she could ask for more details. He had determinedly pushed the image of Sarah out of his mind’s eye to prevent his emotions from revealing themselves. “I’m not giving you her name. Heaven knows what you’ll do with it. Probably run a credit score, or hire a PI, or something.”  
  
“You’re utterly terrible. I would do no such thing,” Olivia said, although her grin betrayed her shot for innocence. “As my darling husband said: it’s your life, little brother.”  
  
“Precisely. This is the end of that discussion.” James said, his tone final. His sister was not a bad person but she did have a tendency to poke her nose into other people’s business, if only for morbid curiosity. Satisfied that he’d shaken her off his trail for now, he raised his mug of now-cooled coffee to Olivia. “Anyway, I’d say it’s been a rather interesting welcome back to the city. I expected nothing less from this magnificent, bumbling place.”   
  
“I think you just aptly described yourself.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Well with you back, I daresay there will be many more interesting days ahead, although I do hope future incidents would involve less blood.” Olivia raised one finely-arched eyebrow. “How long are you back for this time?”  
  
“A month or so? Haven’t really decided.”  
  
“You know I can always hire you as the children’s’ minder if you don’t want to be chained to a desk job. It’s stable at least, and has benefits.”  
  
“Hardy-har-har.”  
  
Olivia stuck her tongue out at him as she crinkled her nose. “Really, James, thirty-seven years old and you’re still sleeping over at your sister’s house. I hope your apartment in DC is an actual one and not a bedsit with one of your friends.”  
  
“I have a _house_ in DC, thank you very much. And you can never turn me away.” James batted his eyes at her. “I’m your only brother after all.”  
  
“ _Baby_ brother. Mummy’s prince and Daddy’s darling.” His sister gave him a rare, indulgent grin.  
  
“Oh hush.”  
  
A comfortable silence settled between them, occasionally punctuated by the children’s’ laughter from one of the upstairs bathrooms. Olivia shook her head in amusement.  
  
“At any rate, I am glad to have an extra pair of hands for that lot. They do love having you around.” She started clearing her plate to place in the kitchen. “Just _try_ to keep out of trouble? Or I’ll send a picture of you as you look now to Mum and Dad faster than you can blink.”  
  
James clutched his chest in mock outrage. “You wouldn’t dare!”  
  
“Try me.” Olivia gave him a knowing wink before standing up and sauntering to the kitchen.  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2-in-1 chapter update! Originally the two had shared a chapter but I decided to split them up. The Cabots had needed more screen time. :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and submitted kudos/reviews! I really really appreciate them!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game begins.

On Monday, Sara woke, feeling vaguely as though the world had tilted.  
  
She woke before her alarm, the remnants of last night’s dream still prominent in her mind. It had been particularly chaotic: a vivid cacophony of mess and color, with a bright flashing light that throbbed and hurt her eyes with such intensity that it urged her to pull from sleep so violently she nearly fell off the mattress. The velvet grey of the quiet morning that wrapped around her apartment was such a startling change to it that for a few seconds she didn’t quite know where she was.  
  
“Ah, Jesus, what the hell.” she muttered, placing her head in her hands.  
  
It wasn’t the first time she’d had such a striking dream; those seemed to be a Labyrinth trademark. Unlike most of the Labyrinth-touched ones however, this one had been quite the oddity. A feeling of discord and displacement had overwhelmed it, until it had seemed it would consume Sarah whole. Even awake she still felt off, as though she had left the house not knowing she had left the stove on.  
  
After a few more minutes, the feeling subsided, and Sarah chalked it up to one of those unexplainable things she really didn’t have time to ponder on. She set about to forgetting it and forced herself to get up and get on with her routine, knowing that if she cut herself any slack she’d end up delaying her commute. Mondays meant meetings and with it, usually, problems. She couldn’t afford to be off her game.  
  
There was a nicely-formed goose egg on her forehead that she had avoided touching and, after her shower, she sat at her vanity and made sure to cover it up with some concealer. It didn’t look as bad as she had feared; her makeup was enough to cover the purplish coloring that had formed on her skin, but it had made her wince as she applied it. Briefly, she wondered if the man who had caused it was all right, remembering the collision and the fact that the amount of blood that had been on his face and hands still made her slightly queasy.  
  
 _“_ Okay, stop,” she chastised herself out loud. “Enough, okay?” _Goddammit I’m now speaking to myself while in an empty room.  
  
_ With a huff, she stood up, readying to leave. She normally didn’t crave the controlled madness that was her line of work, but she could no longer be alone with her thoughts. Almost rebelliously, she switched on her email and started checking, breaking her own rule of not checking anything before 8AM. By the time she had arrived at her office, she was thoroughly in the zone and fielding emails left and right.  
  
“Sarah.” Lexi, her assistant and pretty much the only person in the office that she could consider a friend, greeted her with a hot peppermint mocha as she flew into her office. Shorter than Sarah but with exactly the same fierce temperament, she followed her inside with her iPad clutched to her chest and shut the door. “Jesus, not even 9 yet and already you’re flooding my inbox. Tough weekend?”  
  
Sarah blew out a sigh as she let herself crash into her office chair with more noise than necessary. “You can say that.”  
  
“Did you finally go on a date?” Lexi approached her desk with maddening speed then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because if you did, thank God, because that creep in HR has been after your number for _weeks…_ ”  
  
“Zach?” Sarah wrinkled her nose. Zach from HR was a fresh grad from NYU with sleepy, half-lidded eyes and a nonchalant but confident manner about him. Sarah had caught him eyeing her since they had bumped into each other at a recent town hall, and he had tried to chat her up in an easy, offhand fashion, which she’d ignored. She had marked him off as harmless but potentially annoying. She couldn’t believe he was snooping around for her number though. “Ew, really?”  
  
“Hey, I gave him nothing. Don’t be surprised if he straight up asks you one of these days though.”  
  
“Whatever. I didn’t go on a date. I just had a little mishap happen during the weekend, but it’s all good.”  
  
Lexi frowned and peered at her. “What? Did you do some DIY or something? Slip on black ice?”  
  
“I crashed into a guy during my morning jog. See here?” Sarah pointed to her goose egg, and Lexi winced.  
  
“Looks nasty. Hope you put some ice on it. Did you knock the guy’s teeth out?”  
  
“Hit his nose.” Sarah grimaced when touching the lump sent a fresh wave of pain through her brain. “It was an accident."  
  
“Nasty,” Lexi repeated, shaking her head in disgust. “Ugh. I can just imagine. My brother hit a guy’s face once with his elbow while playing flag football. It was his nose too and there was so much blood. I think he got concussed too.”  
  
“Okay, let’s stop there _.”_ Sarah warned, not really wanting to be reminded about the possibility of a lawsuit. Lexi’s words had already sunk in however, and immediately the familiar paranoia, slow and thick, began threading through her bloodstream. What had seemed like a distant possibility when she had first considered it now seemed a certain reality in the harsh fluorescent lights of her office. What was she _thinking_ giving that guy attitude? She didn’t doubt that he had had money and could very well sue her to Kingdom come. Secretly she already planned to give her father a call during the lunch hour just to get his advice.  
  
In an attempt to lead Lexi away from the topic before she obsessed over it, she focused on the schedule. “What’s on the docket today?”  
  
Lexi, although young and still immature in some aspects, thankfully took her job seriously. Immediately she shifted gears and rattled off Sarah’s schedule. Meeting with the head, approval of book jackets, concept meeting, et cetera. Half of the things could actually already be crossed off given that both she and Sarah had already sent some email replies. In any case, however, Sarah still had enough things to keep her busy all the way ‘til closing time. With a schedule as full as the one she had, the incident that had occurred last weekend was quickly relegated to the farthest corner of Sarah’s mind.  
  
“Great,” she said, smiling at Lexi. She was lucky both she and her assistant thrived off of the Monday morning buzz. “Oh and Lex?” she called out, before her assistant was able to exit her office.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Remind me to call my dad at some point today.”  
  
Lexi tapped the information on her iPad. “Sure. Any special reason?”  
  
 _Possible lawsuit?_ “Um, no. Just a chat.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
And with that, Monday had officially started.

 

* * *

  
  
The rest of the morning flew by with no hitch, although it was a constant grind that had Sarah speed-walking from one office to another, getting approvals, brainstorming, checking proofs. She was only able to get back in her own office just before lunch, feeling drained but deeply satisfied at having finished another task in her never-ending list of to-dos. Now ensconced in the silence of her own room, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, relishing that moment’s peace.  
  
 _Knock! Knock! Knock!  
  
_ Only Lexi knocked on her door and they had a secret code. Three raps in succession meant a medium emergency. Sarah sat up straight reflexively, just in time for Lexi to poke her head in.  
  
“Uh, Sar,” her expression was one of bewilderment mixed with…amusement? “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She sidled inside and shut the door quietly behind her. Sarah frowned at her.  
  
“What is it? Is it Wallace again?” Wallace was one of the Editorial Assistants who was forever hounding Lexi. He was also unfortunately the CEO’s nephew, so had a built-in immunity from their defenses. Lexi would often hide out in her office whenever he was on the prowl.  
  
“Wallace? God no, the little twerp is off today. No but, um…someone is in the lobby asking for you.”  
  
“Oh? Is it an author?”  
  
“No, I don’t think so. Name’s James Cabot. Ring any bells?”  
  
At this, Sarah’s eyes widened.  
  
“No way,” she said before she was able to stop herself. She gripped the edges of her desk so tightly she felt she was going to break the corner off.  
  
“Is this the guy you had bumped into?” Lexi was smiling although also looked slightly nervous. She had crossed her arms and had started picking on the sleeve of her sweater with her fingers.  
  
“Please tell me he looks all right.”  
  
“Security sent his picture up from the lobby. If by ‘all right’ he looks hella cute, then _yeah,_ he is, but…” she paused as Sarah visibly tensed, “he also looks a bit…banged up? Oh I dunno—” she scrambled as Sarah let out an audible ‘ _Shit!’._ _“_ It could have been anything. The pictures are always a bit on the grainy side, you know?”  
  
 _Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Okay, Sarah, calm down. Breathe. Nothing’s happened yet._  
  
“Okay, this is probably something I have to deal with,” Sarah stood up, grabbing her bag and looping it around her shoulder. “Cancel my calls and meetings for the next three hours or so. I don’t know what this guy wants yet but I’ve a feeling it might take a while.”  
  
“Are you in trouble?” Lexi had visibly paled, the makeup she was wearing not even successful in masking how her blood had suddenly been leeched from her face. “I mean, do you need me to call someone?”  
  
“No, not until I figure out what this guy wants.” Calling her father was already at the forefront of her mind, but that was a card she had to wait to play.  
  
“He looks like a nice guy. I mean, he doesn’t look assholey or anything…”  
  
“Lexi.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Meetings and calls cancelled okay?” She trusted Lexi with her life but sometimes she still had to play the adult. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”  
  
“Right. Sure, Sar.”

 

* * *

 

Security protocol at her building dictated that no one was allowed beyond the lobby without explicit permission. Sarah had declined to give hers and as a result had to take the elevator from her office on the 26th floor. By the time she was finally on the ground level, her heart was already in her throat and her blood was pounding in her ears. She held her breath as she walked towards the front lobby with what she hoped looked to be confident strides.  
  
“Ah, Miss Williams.” Rico at the front desk greeted her as she passed and held a hand out towards the glass-enclosed room that was the building waiting area. “Mr. James Cabot there to see you.” She responded to him with a nod.  
  
 _James,_ she reminded herself as she neared the waiting area. She could already see a figure moving inside the spacious room, and she imagined him doing something ridiculous like ordering a martini from the staff inside. But then she shook her head. No matter how much he looked like him, this man was _not_ Jareth.  
  
She didn’t break her stride as she approached, holding her chin up as she placed a hand on the door handle to push it open. The door gave way without resistance and she was met again by the sight of the man whose familiar features made her heart ache. He initially had his back turned to her, but she would (embarrassingly enough) recognize his slim physique anywhere, despite the absence of the wild white-blonde hair that had been a constant in her secret teenage fantasies. There was also…a child?  
  
“Mr. Cabot…?”  
  
The statement hadn’t meant to be a question but the sight of the small blonde boy on the leather sofa seemed to make her brain short-circuit. James Cabot was bent on one knee on the carpet tying the boy’s shoelace for him. Both of them turned at the sound of her voice.  
  
The sight of him again, of Jareth’s spitting image staring back at her just a foot or so away, made her breath hitch unexpectedly. No amount of preparation could have primed her to see his face again, even in the condition it was now in: pale skin and dark bruises surrounding eyes that were gunmetal blue under the light and were as sharp as she could remember. In circumstances that entailed no physical pain (caused by a collision anyway), the cold, clean shock of it sent a sudden jolt through her, as though a bolt of lightning had struck her on the spot. She noticed, however, that seeing her seemed to be an equally shocking experience for him as well, judging from his expression, although she couldn’t fathom why. _He_ was the one who came, goddammit.  
  
“Miss Williams,” he said, without getting up. He gave her a small smile, which honestly looked like it hurt because of all the bruising his face had sustained. The bridge of his nose and the skin around it were splotched gray and purple. He didn’t look as bad as she had imagined but it still made Sarah sick to think _she_ had caused it.  
  
She cleared her throat and gathered her senses. “Mr. Cabot,” she repeated, her voice stronger now. “I…” _Am glad to see you here? Didn’t expect to see you ever again? Hope you’re not going to sue my ass into oblivion?_ “…I got the message that you had wanted to speak to me.”  
  
“Ah yes, one second. Let me just finish up here.” He turned back towards his task of tying the shoe of the boy in front of him, balancing the toddler’s booted foot on his knee. The boy was probably no older than three, and had straight blonde hair with bangs that, if it hadn’t been swept fashionably to the side, would have been able to cover his face. The resemblance between the boy and James was so striking that Sarah was surprised to feel a little pang of… _was that jealousy? Sarah, what the hell?  
  
_ “There we are, Thomas, good as new,” James said in a voice so low Sarah had thought at first he wasn’t speaking at all. The boy had been watching her curiously from where he sat, ocean-blue eyes wide and inquisitive at her presence, although averting his gaze whenever she looked, suddenly shy. When James spoke to him, Sarah watched as the toddler gave him a small playful grin.  
  
“Your…” Sarah started, but found she couldn’t finish. James looked up, saw that she was gesturing at him and the boy both, and then got to his feet, leaving her to gawk at the fact that, despite the state of his face, James Cabot was as much a looker and a personality as Jareth had been. He stood at six feet, or maybe a shade less, and had such a _presence_ that it was hard for her to turn away. He looked as meticulously well-put together as he did the first time she had last seen him: charcoal grey pea coat, black jeans, boots, a scarf and some gloves peeking out of his pockets. Sans the injuries, he definitely would not look out of place on the Upper East Side.  
  
“My Thomas,” James said, a lopsided smile dancing on his lips. “Well, not mine _per se_ …” He held out his hand to the boy who quickly shuffled off the sofa to take it. James steered him towards his front and placed his hands on his shoulders, the toddler comfortably leaning against his legs. “Thomas, meet Miss Sarah Williams. Say hello.”  
  
“S’rah Willems,” Thomas repeated, giving her a smile so sweet and genuine that Sarah felt her resolve melt. He was rocking back and forth on his heels while clutching James’ hands with his own. “Hello.”  
  
“Hello,” Sarah said, unable to help smiling herself. Toby had never been that sweet as a toddler, and she had never really been around enough little children to get a clear gauge of how they were really like. Thomas, however, she felt was a charming little soul, his eyes becoming little half-moons as he smiled at her once more. “Hello, Thomas.”  
  
“He’s a lovely little one, isn’t he? Unfortunately not my son, if you’re wondering,” James said. “He’s my sister’s boy. I’m just keeping an eye on him for the day.”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t really wondering,” Sarah said, even though she secretly was and had been pleased with the answer. She straightened and focused on the matter at hand. “Mr. Cabot, please. If there had been something you wanted to discuss, we really should be getting on with it.”  
  
“Oh? Busy day then?” His eyebrow was cocked, almost in a challenging manner. Sarah quickly remembered how infuriating the man could be, a trait he unfortunately shared with his doppelganger.  
  
“As a matter of fact, yes. Mr. Cabot…” she followed him as he went back to the sofa nearest to the door. The staff on duty, Otto, assigned to always be present in case any of the building’s visitors needed anything, straightened as though readying himself to protect her if need be. Sarah shook her head at him in what she hoped was a discreet manner. “I really have very little time so I would appreciate it if we could get down to business.”  
  
James had sat himself down on the sofa with Thomas in his lap, busying him with a toy plane he had procured from his pockets. He leaned his head back, forcing Sarah to edge in closer so they could have eye contact. She stood above him, but not close enough to touch.  
  
“Mr. Cabot.”  
  
“James, _please_.”  
  
Sarah felt her skin crawl with annoyance. “Very well. James. How can I help you?”  
  
James shut his eyes. “I have a headache.”  
  
 _What?_ “I’m…sorry to hear that. We can get you an aspirin if you’d like.”  
  
“I’m afraid it’s caused by a rather unfortunate mishap that had occurred yesterday,” James continued, his eyes still closed. He talked in a lazy manner, as if he was about to fall asleep. “I’m not certain you remember.”  
  
Her ears suddenly felt hot although she wasn’t sure what emotion was causing it exactly. Fear? Anger? Frustration? “I’m not sure I understand where this is leading.”  
  
“Well what it might lead to is a rather expensive lawsuit, especially given the medical bills I’ve managed to accumulate over a short period of time.” James said. “Unless of course, we reach a settlement.”  
  
At this point, Sarah’s stomach had turned to water, and she wanted very much to cry. A lawsuit! Her parents were going to kill her! She was determined, however, not to show the man how terrified she felt. She clutched her phone in her hand, ready to text Lexi to send a message to her father. “A settlement. How much are we talking, exactly?” The amount James gave her in the next few seconds however was utterly ridiculous and Sarah gaped at him. “ _What?!_ ”  
  
“My lawyer can talk to yours, it really is no issue.”  
  
Sarah glared at him, wanting very much to grab his shoulders and shake him angrily. “That’s crazy. Besides, it was an accident.”  
  
At this, James opened his eyes and peered at her. “I’m a reasonable man, however. We can settle in another fashion.”  
  
“How?” Sarah blurted out, and right away she knew that doing it was a mistake. She had been too eager, and he’d seen it. Goddammit.  
  
A small smile lifted the corners of James’ mouth, and he stood up, carefully depositing Thomas first to the side to continue playing with his toy. He stood in front of Sarah, so close that she could feel his breath on her forehead and the heat radiating from him. He smelled of expensive cologne, rich forest fruits, musk, vanilla; the combination of it and his presence near her was enough to make her head spin.  
  
“Lunch today,” he said, his voice soft, his tone now gentle. “Thomas has excellent tastes in restaurants. Then dinner. Not tonight, but at some point.”  
  
 _Wait, what?  
  
_ “What?” she asked, not able to help her voice rising in pitch. James didn’t seem perturbed.  
  
“You may choose to pay for either meal to compensate, if you wish, but I will not force you. Your company for a meal or two would already be more than enough.”  
  
 _What in fresh hell?  
  
_ “You were literally just telling me you were going to sue,” she hissed at him. “And now you want…” _Was he asking her OUT? What the fuck?_ “Are you insane? Did you suffer some kind of head injury as well?”  
  
“I did not but would be more than happy to add that to my list of _potential_ ones.” A sly expression had taken over James’ face. “We could always do it the legal way of course. I do have to warn you that it will drag on for ages and might end up besmirching the name of your fine office, as well as your own.”  
  
A slow, steady panic had started to course through her, fear keeping her in its grasp. He was right of course. Any legal dispute she might enter into would definitely put a dent in her career, and would entail losing a huge chunk of not only hers but her parents’ money. Also, although this man looked like Jareth, she still had no idea who he really was. He could have been an English count or a long-lost Vanderbilt cousin. He certainly looked and acted the part, and she was fairly certain that this was a man who always got what he wanted. There was absolutely no way she was going to win any legal battle with him.  
  
“I don’t even know you,” she frowned at him, not really seeing there was any other choice. “How do I even know you’re not a serial killer or something? And that Thomas isn’t some kid you’ve abducted from the park?”  
  
“Precisely why lunch and dinner out is a good idea. We’ll be in clear view of everyone else, trust me. If you’d like, you may also ask Thomas questions about me. I’m sure he’d be happy to answer.” When Sarah didn’t answer, he peered at her. “Is that a yes then?”  
  
"And if I say no?"  
  
James managed a faltering step backward, as if swooning. "Oh, my head. I do hope I'm not concussed," he said, holding a hand to his forehead. He had done it so convincingly that Otto had actually glanced at their direction in alarm. Sarah reached out to grasp James' arms before he decided he wanted to fall over as well to complete his act.  
  
" _Okay,"_ she hissed. "Lunch today. I'll decide after it if dinner is worth a second shot. No touching, and Thomas sits between us at all times. If at any point I don't like what happens and it's your doing, the deal is off and we'll do a fair legal arrangement."  
  
"You drive a hard bargain. But fair enough. May I also remind you that you're touching  _me_ and not the other way around?"   
  
She hated him. She didn’t know him, but she was pretty sure she hated him.  
  
“I’m pretty sure this falls under blackmail somewhere.” She said, gritting her teeth. She had let him go with such swiftness that he nearly did fall over, but managed to catch his balance. Now he stood confidently in front of her, not a blonde hair out of place from the way it fell in lush waves up and around his head.   
  
“I’m the perfect gentleman, I can assure you,” James’ teeth flashed as he gave her an easy grin, and for a second, Sarah was reminded of glass shards and cold stone. _Danger,_ a small voice that suspiciously sounded like Hoggle’s whispered in her ear, but as suddenly as it came, it was gone. Sarah shuddered.  
  
She watched as James got Thomas ready which, given the fact that they were still in outdoor coats, really only involved helping him put on his hat and gloves. The toddler seemed to adore his uncle, even giving him a kiss before James straightened after pulling his hat down over his head. When he was done, she saw as James gave her a quick once-over. “You’re warm enough, yes?” he asked, one hand clasped over Thomas’.  
  
“Let’s just get this over with,” Sarah said, giving him a pointed look. “I swear to God though, one wrong move and I’ll have you on your ass.” It wasn’t true. She was shit at self-defense, but James didn’t know that. She was surprised when he chuckled.  
  
“I don’t fancy another bruising if that’s what you’re implying. It’s just a meal, Sarah, nothing more.”  
  
The way he said her name was so _familiar_ that Sarah’s throat tightened. She said a quick prayer to anyone listening to help her get through what she was sure would be the most difficult meal in her life.  
  
“All right,” she conceded. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. “Let’s go.”  
  
James’ smile could light kindling, and there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes that Sarah found highly aggravating. _Bastard._ She couldn’t believe the same face in two different worlds had successfully rendered her helpless, consent be damned. It was utterly ridiculous.  
  
“It’s a bit nippy out, so I hope that coat is warm enough,” James warned as they walked towards the glass double doors that served as the entryway to the building.  
  
“Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. She frowned at him when she saw with the corner of her eye the smirk on his lips.  
  
“No need to get testy, darling.”  
  
 _Arrogant ass.  
  
_ “Don’t call me ‘darling’.”  
  
“Sarah darlin’.” Thomas said quite suddenly. He was in James’ arms, and when Sarah turned to look, he hid his face as though ashamed. James didn’t even try to hide his grin and Sarah gave him another pointed look.  
  
“He’s half-British. It’s a predilection.” He adjusted his hold on the boy, murmuring into his hair, “Thomas, Sarah doesn’t like that name.”  
  
“ _He’s_ fine to use it. Not you.”  
  
“You wound me.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
She was feeling unbelievably petty at the moment, and the biting cold that greeted them as soon as they walked out of the warm confines of her building did nothing to douse her temper. Secretly she was already scheming. She would beat him at his own game somehow. Jareth or no, she had done it once and she could do it again.  
  
 _Danger,_ the voice said again, like wind rattling through dead branches, the ominous hissing of a snake before it struck. But then it disappeared, and Sarah kept walking.  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

In the beginning, James had only considered going to Sarah’s office to humor her, given that she had provided the address so willingly, and there was no greater time to do it than immediately after their unexpected run-in. All throughout Sunday he had gone through great lengths to keep thoughts of her at bay, hyperaware that his sister and brother-in-law would quickly pick up on it, but when Monday dawned, cold, grey, and early, and he with it, the urge to go uptown and attempt at something more than just seeing Sarah had grown into something so fierce it had nearly made him lose his breakfast.  
  
“Huh, I didn’t expect for you to know this place,” Sarah was saying as they took their seats. The restaurant of choice was three blocks away from her office building. It was a low-key Thai restaurant where the interior was mostly cherry wood and the ceiling was done up with dozens of paper lanterns in the shapes of dragons, moons, and stars. Thomas had clapped his hands in delight as soon as they had crossed the threshold.  
  
“My sister buys food from here,” he said by way of explanation. That was true at least, unlike half his narrative about the lawsuit. Truth: he _had_ seen a doctor, Peter’s family’s doctor who did house calls, for an initial assessment, and who had declared his nose badly bruised but unbroken. The painkillers he had been prescribed was currently working wonders for him, but all in all, nothing to write home about. “Thomas is partial to the pad thai.”  
  
“So am I,” he heard Sarah say, although in a voice so low it could have very well been anyone at all. He didn’t comment on it, focusing instead on securing his nephew in the booster seat that had been provided, and pushing his chair in nearer to the table, in the spot between his own seat and Sarah’s.  
  
“Paddai! Yes!” Thomas exclaimed happily, obviously knowing what he was in for. From what James could see from the corner of his eye, Sarah had already taken her seat and was watching him warily.  
  
His temples throbbed as his heart pace quickened, the realization that he’d actually succeeded with his scheme now sinking in. In all honesty, he hadn’t really formed a plan on _how_ he was going to go about getting Sarah to spend some time with him, but the second he saw her seemed to have sent his brain on autopilot mode, his subconscious quickly putting together a number of old tricks he’d already used on countless others and patching it together to come up with a believable story. James knew he could be conniving, manipulative even, especially when he wanted something, and this was no exception. Sarah, to her credit, wasn’t just a pretty little fool and the realization pleased him greatly. She would be a formidable opponent, one who would not give in to his whims so easily, and for that he was ecstatic. She could curse him for all he cared, but for now he had won.  
  
A waiter approached their table and James set about ordering dishes he hoped would be neutral enough between the three of them: vegetarian pad thai, spring rolls, tom kha gai. He threw a glance at Sarah’s direction in case she wanted to order more but she shook her head, looking resolute about finishing the meal as quickly as possible.  
  
“The Thai iced tea is quite nice,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
“No, thank you.” To the waiter she said, “Just water with lemon please.”  
  
 _Oh you are a tough nut to crack._ James smiled inwardly at himself. He’d known girls like Sarah, and knew it was best to leave them to their own devices, give them some space and time to approach him on their own. For now, as strange as it seemed, he was quite content to just be with her, even in the glaring silence that surrounded them following the waiter’s departure. He focused then on getting Thomas comfortable, removing his hat and gloves, and peeling from him the heavy winter jacket Olivia had insisted he should wear.  
  
“Fank you,” said Thomas as he wriggled free from the coat.  
  
“You’re welcome, Major Tom.” James smoothed back his nephew’s hair from his face, feeling the familiar surge of fondness he did when it came to his sister’s children. The inclusion of Thomas in the outing had been rather serendipitous. With Peter at Kit’s school for Career Day, and Olivia with Charlotte for an appointment at Kindermusik, James had taken the opportunity to take his youngest nephew out rather than have him languishing indoors. He loved his nephews and nieces to pieces but had a secret soft spot for Thomas. He was smaller than Kit had been at his age, and constantly trailed behind his big brother. He was also the most sensitive of the lot, too quiet and sweet to upstage his big brother, but also regularly giving leeway to his baby sister who, frankly, could get away with murder. He didn’t doubt though his nephew’s role in softening Sarah’s resolve and mentally noted he should buy Thomas a treat later before they went home.  
  
“You know, that doesn’t prove you’re his uncle,” Sarah said from her spot on Thomas’ right. “He could be anyone’s kid.”  
  
“Oh really?”  
  
“His manners compared to your lack of already say otherwise.”  
  
James let out a chuckle. “I suppose you know a lot about children? Have you any of your own?”  
  
“I’m twenty-nine!” Sarah looked indignant, roses now blooming on her pale cheeks. It really was so easy to rile her up, almost as if she was already set on edge. James found it wholly entertaining. “Don’t tell me you’re one of _those_ men.”  
  
“Who are ‘ _those’_?” James asked, putting a straw in one of the water glasses so Thomas could take a drink. “I was just asking a question. It’s perfectly normal whether you have children or don’t, who cares what age you are?”  
  
Sarah still looked quite heated but calmed down significantly as she said her next statement. “I have a little brother—well, younger. He’s not so little anymore…”  
  
 _Toby._ The name came to him unbidden, although he didn’t really know why. With it came a sharp stab of pain in his head and he visibly flinched.  
  
“…are you all right?” Sarah’s voice floated through the throbbing haze he was suddenly wrapped in. He felt like he was wrapped in cotton wool and hearing everything else from the other end of the tunnel. There was someone grabbing his face and then he felt himself sinking, the tunnel getting longer and longer…  
  
“ _James!”  
  
_ His name rang through clear as a bell, and it was as though something tugged him back from the thick mire he was in. The rest of his senses came whooshing back at a fantastic speed, and he sat up with a jolt, found himself thankfully still in his seat, but with his head resting on his arms that were on the sticky vinyl tabletop. Thomas was staring at him as if he’d just seen a ghost.  
  
“Wh-what?” he asked, feeling incredibly drained. He didn’t know what had happened but it had certainly been quite the spectacle, apparently; several waiters were standing near their table, ready to assist them if need be.  
  
“Oh my God, are you all right? What just happened? Here,” Sarah handed him a glass of water. She was also quite pale and her eyes had gone comically wide. Thomas suddenly burst into tears, possibly startled at the event that had taken place, and James was surprised when she leaned in to croon at him. “Oh, Thomas, it’s all right. It’s okay, baby…”  
  
“Here, let me take him…” James said, knowing he had to act fast lest his nephew scream the whole place down. He made to unbuckle Thomas from his booster seat but Sarah stood up before him, motioning for him to stay seated. “ _Drink,”_ she ordered, pointing to the glass. He obeyed and within seconds she had lifted Thomas up and lowered him into James’ lap. Thomas clutched at him as though he was going to disappear, soaking the front of his sweater with tears.  
  
“Ssh, Tom, it’s okay,” James said, petting Thomas’ hair and holding him close. Seeing that he was probably all right, the ring of waiters that had held tense positions around them loosened and went on with their tasks, although they had looked to Sarah first for the a-ok. He was still confused as to what had happened and so he turned to Sarah, who was back in her seat, for clues.  
  
“You…fainted, I guess? That’s the best way to describe it. I was telling you something and you kind of just…made this face like you were pained, then it was gone and you slumped forward. I thought…I thought you were having a heart attack or something. It happened so fast. You woke up after…20 or 30 seconds…” She looked visibly shaken and her words stumbled into each other.  
  
James frowned. The pain in his head was still there but it wasn’t as severe. “Fainting? I _don’t_ faint. I’ve _never_ fainted.” He felt offended at the notion, but Sarah raised an eyebrow at him, his attitude prompting her to revert to the offensive/defensive stance she’d had before it had happened.  
  
“Well you did, and you scared the hell out of everyone…” She motioned to Thomas, and her tone softened. “Is he okay?”  
  
Thomas was still sobbing, although the tight hold James had on him seemed to comfort him. Each sob seemed to sear into James’ very soul and he switched gears to give his nephew his full attention. “Here now, Tom, calm down. I’m all right, I’m sorry I scared you. I’m fine, see?” James attempted to angle his face for Thomas to get a clear look. The boy looked so distraught it made his heart twinge upon seeing it. “Oh, I’m so sorry, darling. It won’t happen again.”  
  
“Here, Thomas, have some water.” Sarah offered the glass with a straw in it, placing it on the table within James’ reach. They stayed silent as James offered the glass for Thomas to drink, which the toddler thankfully accepted. Eventually his sobs died down to hiccups and he rested heavily against James’ chest, worrying his uncle’s sweater between his fingers. When James tried to move him he let out such a shriek that he didn’t dare attempt it again.  
  
“You frightened him quite badly,” Sarah said. Luckily, their food had started coming so it proved a good enough distraction to Thomas who peeked at the table, watching as the various dishes were arranged. James found it the perfect opportunity to wipe his nephew’s face down with a clean napkin.  
  
“Yeah, poor bugger. You’re all right, yeah?” When Thomas nodded, he ran a hand across his own face, still feeling weak and disoriented. The pain had almost gone, however, leaving James more perplexed than ever.  
  
“Are _you_ all right though? Was it one?”  
  
“One what?”  
  
“A heart attack. I mean, I really think we should call 911 still…”  
  
“Sarah, please.” Her fretting did nothing but make him more anxious, which was really not what he needed. “It wasn’t a heart attack. I think I’d be able to tell if it was.” And he _resented_ that insinuation. He was slender, but quite fit. Majority of his school years had been spent on various fields and tracks, and recently he’d taken up swimming and football again. If anything, that was one trait Olivia still cursed him for that had been passed down to her children; neither Kit nor Charlotte could seem to stand to be still for long periods of time.  
  
In short, there was absolutely _no way_ he was having a heart attack.  
  
“And how are you sure?” Sarah challenged him. With Thomas no longer in his seat between them, she edged in closer, so close in fact that James could smell her scent: clean linen and honey, like a baby. So contradictory was it to how she looked like now – her hair falling loose in waves about her heart-shaped face, her eyes venomous as she glared at him, and her entire posture set as though coiled to spring – that James wanted to laugh rather than feel threatened.  
  
“Because it was my head that hurt, not my chest or my shoulder—what?” James turned to see Sarah’s expression change. She looked as though someone had poured cold water on her. “What is it?”  
  
“Oh God…I knew it. You’re probably more injured than you thought.”  
  
“ _What?”_ The sudden movement caused pain to flare, but on his face this time, and he remembered. The painkillers he had taken that morning were probably already wearing off. Blast it, he shouldn’t have scared her so much with that cockamamie lawsuit story. Had it been another person he probably wouldn’t have minded, but he was growing concerned now that Sarah looked so frightened. “Sarah, don’t be ridiculous. I already went for a CT scan.” Lie, but he’d probably have to go in anyway, after this. “It’s all right.”  
  
“It was an accident, I’m _sorry…_ ” Sarah looked about ready to cry herself and James’ panic grew. A crying child he could deal with, but a crying _woman_? And when he’d done nothing wrong!  
  
“It _was_ an accident, calm down now, you’ve not damaged me.” He had tried to keep his voice hushed but after the incident that had just occurred everyone seemed to now be staring at their table. He gave them all a rather rude glare to make it known that it was not appreciated, and everyone averted their eyes. “For God’s sake, calm down or Thomas will start up again.” Truth, Thomas was already tensing against him. It had all been going so _well…_ “Tell you what, okay, let’s everybody relax. Okay. Just…breathe, okay?”  
  
Oddly, Sarah seemed to listen to him and shut her eyes, forcing herself to take deep breaths. It looked like a ritual she was used to so James did not disturb her. When she seemed to have regained her composure a bit, he rested the edge of his knuckles against hers, just close enough to have their skin ghost each other’s. To his relief, Sarah did not pull away.  
  
“All right. We’re all alright here. Come on,” he tried to crack a smile, “we were getting along so swimmingly.”  
  
“Yeah, until you decided to faceplant onto the table,” Sarah’s voice still trembled, but not as strongly now. “What if you _are_ concussed…?”  
  
“Please, Sarah, let’s not get into that.” He motioned to the food, the three dishes they’d ordered ready and waiting and glistening like jewels under the muted lights. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. “C’mon, let’s tuck in, yeah? I’m fine. I don’t want to upset Thomas anymore.”  
  
Sarah seemed to want to say something more but James had already pushed towards her the bubbling steel pot filled with tom kha gai. The cloudy scent of stewed chicken, coconut milk, ginger, and cilantro had enveloped their table and James inhaled it hungrily. Thomas too looked eager and started sitting up in his lap. To prevent any more outbursts, James decided to just feed him where he sat, taking care to give his nephew small spoonfuls first before he ate a serving for himself.  
  
“Please stop staring at me,” he grumbled at Sarah when he caught her watching him as she picked at her food. “I _won’t_ disappear.”  
  
She frowned at him, her lower lip even jutting out a margin in a tiny pout. “But what if you have another episode?”  
  
“Episode?”  
  
“Of whatever that thing was. Do you…do you have a history of epilepsy?”  
  
“So you’ve gone from hating me to being concerned about my medical history?” he asked sarcastically. He couldn’t help it. Although this was attention from Sarah, it was attention he _did not_ like. Especially since he wasn’t sure either what was wrong with him.  
  
“Hey, that’s uncalled for,” said Sarah, her cheeks burning. “I’m just…I’m scared that I might have caused that episode. With that crash…”  
  
“All right, stop right there,” he interrupted her. He was cutting Thomas’ pad thai into bite sized servings but had ended up chopping them too small. Thomas let out an indignant “No!” and bit into a spring roll instead, clutching at it with a fist. James sighed and threw up his hands, turning his head to face Sarah now that his nephew was occupied. He was growing weary of this topic of conversation.  
  
“I don’t know what happened either, but I feel fine.” Half-truth: the pain in his head was gone but he was now very tired, and there was that feeling that he was going to come down with something, as if a low-grade fever was building up inside of him. The bruising on his face was also becoming a source of minor discomfort, but it was really nothing he couldn't handle. “You didn’t cause this.”  
  
“How do you know that?” Sarah shot back.  
  
“ _Must_ you argue with me about everything I say?” he said, a thread of exasperation leaking through in his tone. He wanted so badly for this conversation to end. “It will be fine. I have insurance. I have insurance and even if I didn’t, I have enough money in the bank to pay for any medical bill that may come about from this unfortunate encounter.” He took a breath, waited for Sarah to react, and when she didn’t, finished the rest of his statement, this time with complete honesty. “I apologize I frightened you with that lawsuit figure. It was not my intention to cause you undue stress. Given these circumstances, I’d just like to inform you that I’ve absolutely no intention of suing you anytime soon, so please…let’s just sit back, relax, and share this lovely meal.”  
  
Silence reigned at their table after his short speech, only punctuated at odd intervals by Thomas singing under his breath. And then…  
  
“Is that supposed to _impress_ me?” Sarah hissed at him, eyes flashing dangerously. “God.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” God, who _was_ this woman? James couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to start a shouting match with her or just snog her right there and then.  
  
“I don’t give a hoot how much money you have, Mr. Cabot. I’m unfortunately involved now and you’ll find that unlike most, I do have a conscience.”  
  
Her delivery was hilariously dramatic, as if she were a child in a play reciting words far too big for her. James tried hard not to smile.  
  
“All right…” he said, unsure of the direction this bizarre conversation was taking. Sarah was scribbling something on the back of a small piece of cardboard paper. A calling card. She thrust it towards him. _Robert Williams, Esq._ _Attorney-at-law.  
  
_ “The name,” she tapped on the table top with a perfectly-manicured finger, “on there is the ENT my father goes to. He’s one of the best in the city.”  
  
James read the name and recognized it right away. It was one of the people Peter had also suggested for him to see. Park Avenue office. Old money. “What are you telling me?” he asked Sarah suspiciously, not wanting to take the card just yet. It seemed an unspoken contract, only he wasn’t aware of the conditions.  
  
“Go see him and get a full check-up. I’ll inform him you’re coming.” She said, holding her chin aloft.  
  
“You do realize I have my own doctors?”  
  
“Yes, but probably not as good as this one. And…” A flash of annoyance ran through her expression, “this is a pre-condition to something you might be interested in.”  
  
His ears perked up. “Oh?”  
  
“Dinner, if you take that check-up with him and follow his instructions. I’ll have him contact me in the end and then we’ll talk.”  
  
Oh, she was _good.  
  
_ James licked his lips and weighed his chances quickly. He had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain. Only a fool wouldn’t take it. But he had to resist jumping at the gun, if only to not show Sarah how absolutely ecstatic he was. _Turnabout is fair play indeed.  
  
_ “My restaurant of choice then,” he said smoothly, sliding the card over and slipping it into his pocket.  
  
Sarah gave a disgruntled sigh, obviously not pleased with herself and the offer she had just made. “If dinner is the price I’ll have to pay to ease my conscience then so be it.” She speared a spring roll with her fork then glowered at him once again. James had to restrain himself from not cupping her face with his hands and kissing it.  
  
They finished the rest of the meal in relative peace, with James occasionally asking questions and Sarah giving short but succinct answers, if she ever deemed to give them at all. Thomas though garnered a lot of her attention, his shyness eventually fading and being replaced with his usual charming self that blossomed only in familiar settings and with people he felt comfortable with. Sarah was generally congenial to his nephew, although in a manner that gave James the impression that she was, strangely, being very gentle with him, as though Thomas were an ephemeral being who’d disappear in a wink the minute she talked too loudly or moved too brashly. He kept an open ear to their hushed conversations about children who fly, pixie dust, and puppies, happily excluding himself from the conversation if it meant he’d hear both Thomas and Sarah talk more, but then deemed it time to go when, at some point, Thomas started insisting on migrating from James’ lap to hers.  
  
“Dinner soon then?”  
  
They now stood at the threshold of the restaurant, wrapped up in coats once more and ready to face the stinging cold outside. It was early afternoon, and the sky outside was cotton-white over the stark silhouettes of the leafless maples and poplars that lined the street. He felt better now after having been fed, and was in a fairly buoyant mood. Everything seemed so normal by then that it was as though nothing had happened, until of course, Sarah had to bring it up again.  
  
“Keep your end of the deal and then we’ll talk,” she said, all tenderness she had shown when she had been conversing with Thomas now gone. “I don’t want to hear from you again until it’s regarding a clean bill of health. You aren’t allowed in my building either.”  
  
“And what if it’s not?”  
  
“That’s not allowed.” Sarah frowned. “Clean bill of health, or no dinner.”  
  
James resisted rolling his eyes. “All right. Let me walk you back at least.”  
  
“No, Jare—James, we’re done here. Go home and get some rest and let me go back to my normal, complication-free life that I was happily living before you showed up.”  
  
 _The cheek._ “Sounded like a pretty boring life to be honest.”  
  
Sarah let out a furious huff. He got under her skin so easily, it was such fun to watch.  
  
“Good _bye,_ James.” And then in a gentler tone to the toddler who stood at their feet, “Goodbye, Thomas. It was nice to meet you.”  
  
“Goodbye, Sarah darlin’,” Thomas said, leaning against James’ legs. “Nice to meet you, magic lady.”  
  
James laughed, especially as Sarah’s eyes grew round as dinner plates. “What?” he said, as he lifted Thomas up and tickled him with his fingers, eliciting a peal of laughter. “You just think of the cleverest things, don’t you? Cheeky Thomas. That’s quite naughty as well,” he admonished gently. He looked back at Sarah who still looked quite stunned. “Apologies for that. And apologies again for the scare I put you through.”  
  
“Where’d he get that?” Sarah asked, looking perturbed. “‘Magic lady’? Is it from some show? Did you tell him that?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.” James scoffed. “I don’t even know what that means. It could be from anywhere, and he’s just watched Peter Pan.”  
  
Sarah seemed to wait for Thomas to mention it again, but Thomas was no longer interested, wanting instead to rest his head on James’ shoulder for a long-overdue nap.  
  
“That was weird…” James heard Sarah mutter to herself, but when he raised his eyebrows at her, she waved him off. “All right. Goodbye again, James.” She seemed torn as to whether or not she would thank him, then when she decided not to, gave him a nod before finally turning to leave. Door creak. A split-second of freezing wind. Thump. James watched as she walked down the street away from him, feeling for a moment that he was always going to be doomed to watch Sarah always leaving him behind, a thousand years, in a hundred lives.  
  
“Til then, Sarah Williams,” he said, and when he did, it was in a voice that he could barely recognize as his own.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no explanation for this. James pretty much wrote himself.


	8. Chapter 8

Sarah was running the Labyrinth again.  
  
She was in one of the outer edges, close to the Firey Forest. She knew because she had dreamt it before, once or twice when she was younger, watching the Fireys as they pranced around a roaring bonfire while clacking animal bones, their hooting and hollering echoing ominously in the canopy. She had still been incredibly frightened of them, and had opted to stay hidden in the shadows, holding her breath as they brandished horned skulls and shook teeth necklaces, their menacing laughter urging her to wake up with a jolt.  
  
Now she walked cautiously, one hand on the graying stone. She could hear as every step she made rang heavily in the silence.  
  
Silence. The Labyrinth was never silent.  
  
“Hello?” she called out, her heart thudding hard against her chest. “Hello?”  
  
Her voice bounced back to her, the sound of it as though she had spoken in an empty cave rather than a living, thriving realm. For some reason, the Fireys’ chaos was more comforting than the emptiness that currently surrounded her.  
  
“Hoggle?” Sarah tried again. “Ludo? Sir Didymus?”  
  
Again, silence. Not a rustle, nor a peep, nor even the gentle thrumming of magic that Sarah had never noticed she had grown used to, until its current absence hit her like a punch in the gut. She felt queasy and off-center. Looking up, she saw the sky had taken the appearance of curdled milk, patchy and almost unreal, as if it were falling apart.  
  
“Hoggle?” she repeated, her voice slightly higher now. “Ludo? Sir Didymus?”  
  
She sounded like a frightened child. Her mind quickly flashed back to an instance in her childhood when she had accidentally locked herself in a clothes chest, her voice calling out _daddy daddy daddy find me please daddy daddy,_ going unheard for what seemed like hours before her father eventually found her and fished her out, hysterical but relatively unharmed.  
  
She strained her ears harder, forcing herself to pick up any other sound or any sense of movement. Seconds, then minutes passed. The stillness enveloped her like a cloak, the quiet so deafening she felt as though she was going to lose her mind because of it.  
  
“Jareth?” she said, daring to voice the name she had not said out loud since that fateful night that she had gotten Toby back. It was almost a wish, his name, and she shivered as she said it. The last resort. The red button.  
  
_Jareth Jareth Jareth find me please Jareth Jareth  
  
_ The only reply she received was the harsh pounding of her own heart, a solitary war drum in the silence so vast it threatened to drown her.  


* * *

 

 _Knock! Knock!  
  
_ Sarah jumped in her seat. Sound suddenly roared in her ears. She gripped the armrests of her chair as though to prevent from falling off just as Lexi poked her head into her office. Two knocks. Phone call.  
  
“Hey, someone on Line 4 for you…hey, you okay?” Her assistant frowned, her brows furrowing in the middle of her forehead.  
  
Sarah licked her lips. She must have zoned out. On her desks were still prints she had to approve and she wasn’t even halfway done. “Um…yeah,” she cleared her head by giving it a little shake. “Sorry, I’ve not been sleeping so well these days.”  
  
She remembered the most vivid one that somehow kept coming back in bits and pieces: the Labyrinth, eerie in its silence. Like a tomb. Recalling it made the inside of her mouth taste like ash.  
  
“Oh, that again, huh?” Lexi said, used to her insomnia and complaints related to it. “Well, maybe the call really is for you? I didn’t patch him through right away because I wasn’t sure whether or not it was legit.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
“It’s a Dr. Conti? Said he needed to speak to you.”  
  
At this, Sarah frowned, baffled. “So soon?” she asked, more at herself than at Lexi. Lexi shrugged, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“I’ll patch him through then?”  
  
A nod, and Sarah promptly steered herself back to the present. “Yes please. Thanks, Lexi,” she said, absentmindedly putting her files in order as she waited for her phone to ring. It did after only a few seconds after her assistant left the room. “Hello?”  
  
“Sarah, dear one,” the voice that rang through was warm, akin to that of a favored uncle. “I’m making this call as requested. I’ve done a full check-up on your friend.”  
  
The doctor’s name was Felix Conti and Sarah had known him since she was young. He was slightly older than her father and belonged to one of those old legacy families who were known for a particular trade, but he had apparently broken off the traditional route and had gone for an MD instead. Dr. Conti was genial where her father could be strict, and Sarah knew him well enough to know he could keep a secret or two. She had called him as soon as she had gotten back to the office after that eventful lunch with James and Thomas, informing him of the unfortunate accident they had encountered and to ask him to ensure that no damage had been done, charging everything to her card, should James decide to undergo it.  
  
That had only been a week ago. Half of her had not counted on James to take her up on the offer for one reason or another, but the other half had secretly lived in dread, a small voice at the back of her mind repeatedly telling her that James Cabot was not a man she should underestimate.  
  
“He’s not my friend,” she told Dr. Conti automatically, in case any of this filtered back to her father. It was highly unlikely, but Sarah knew she had to take precautions.  
  
“Ah,” Dr. Conti tutted, “please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I won’t tell you exact details given that it’ll be against the moral code…doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. I did, however, ask his permission to share with you the concluding result, and he agreed.”  
  
“And…?”  
  
“He’s perfectly fine. Just a little banged up, really, but all tests showed negative for any long-term damage. At least, for anything that could have stemmed from that injury.”  
  
Sarah felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “Would you have any medical opinion as to why he would have fainted then? Would that have been anything that could have been related to the accident?”  
  
There was the sound of paper rustling. Dr. Conti probably checking the results. “Not anything to do with your mishap, no. Could be a number of other things, anemia and the like. But we didn’t cover that.”  
  
“Okay.” That was good, right? She was at least in the clear. “Okay, that’s good. That’s the most I needed. Please don’t forget to charge it to my account.”  
  
“Sarah, I’ve also not charged anything to your card. He insisted the fees be put on his.”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“I had told him it was taken care of but he had insisted. Fortunately, we hadn’t charged yours yet.”  
  
Sarah wanted to groan out loud but instead settled on clenching her free hand into a fist. She should have seen that coming. So much for her moral high ground.  
  
“At any rate, he’s fine, dear Sarah,” Dr. Conti said, sounding immensely pleased. “No need to worry, as I know you probably have…”  
  
_Knock! Knock!_ Lexi appeared again at the doorway, this time with a bemused expression on her face. Having received the information she needed, Sarah quickly and politely said goodbye to Dr. Conti. Once the phone was set back down, Sarah looked up at her assistant.  
  
“Sorry,” she said. Her desk was now in disarray. “Two knocks. Phone call right?”  
  
“Yep,” Lexi nodded, then gestured towards the phone. Sure enough, a light was blinking on it. “Line 2.”  
  
She seemed a bit flustered than expected, and Sarah couldn’t help but ask, “Yeah, but who is it?”  
  
“James Cabot.”  
  
“ _What?!”  
  
_ “He knows you’re here, he’s already said as much,” Lexi bit her lower lip. “If you don’t want to talk to him…”  
  
“No no,” Sarah said with a resigned wave of her hand. What good was it going to be avoiding the man anyway? He already knew her office and apparently its number. “Fuck. Argh. Okay, I’ll talk to him.”  
  
“Sure? I can make him go away…” her assistant said, although she looked unsure.  
  
“No, it’s okay. I need to anyway…” She trailed off, peering at Lexi, who’d gone an alarming shade of red. “Are you _blushing_?”  
  
“I hadn’t meant to admit to him you were here, but he sounded so polite and charming that it…slipped out.” Her assistant looked at her miserably. “Oh, Sarah, I didn’t _mean_ to…”  
  
Sarah had several choice adjectives she wanted to label James as but chose not vocalize in front of Lexi. After she assured her that no harm had been done and her assistant had skittered away, her ringer went off and Sarah picked it up immediately.  
  
“How did you even get this number?” she hissed at the receiver, keeping her voice low enough to not be heard by anyone eavesdropping by her door. It wouldn’t do for anyone to start gossiping about her receiving personal calls.  
  
“Good afternoon to you too, Miss Williams,” James’ polished accent came through loudly and clearly, so smooth and sharp that Sarah unconsciously shuddered. The sound of it was so like Jareth’s own that she had to steady herself to be convinced she wasn’t dreaming it. “How are you this fine day?”  
  
“Mr Cabot, how did you get this number?” she repeated, blatantly ignoring James’ greeting. Irritation at herself and the situation crept into her tone. “I don’t recall giving you any information nor permission to call.”  
  
“Ah, but then lack of a directive implied that I _could_ call, given that I had the right number. Like any internet-savvy user, all I had to do was look up your lovely company, which of course had a number that was publicly registered, asked a few questions…”  
  
Sarah covered her face with her palm. Of fucking course. It would have only taken a few polite queries before anyone chanced upon her direct line and, once they got it, pushed a few of Lexi’s choice buttons. She couldn’t blame Lexi for eventually giving in to James; she had a feeling the man could read a grocery list and make it sound like an erotic romance novel.  
  
“Okay, let’s skip the pleasantries. How can I help you?” Sarah asked, her tone quite curt. She knew he had defeated her at her own game and she was not enjoying it.  
  
“I trust the good doctor has contacted you? He had informed me he’d be calling you today for the results. If he hasn’t, I’d like to inform you I’m the perfect specimen of health, save from my bruised nose.” He sounded so smug and self-satisfied that it took all of Sarah’s inner strength to not hang up on him. “I’ve come to collect my due.”  
  
Never had she wanted to bang her head against her desk than that moment.  
  
“I’m aware that you live in Brooklyn, and so dinner uptown will not be ideal. I would like to propose we meet tomorrow evening at Rocco’s in Williamsburg. Is 7 a good time for you?”  
  
How was this happening? Three weeks ago she had lived a relatively normal life, and now not only had she managed to meet Jareth’s apparent human twin, the man was intent to go on a date with her. And she had set the trap that had practically ensured it.  
  
She wondered if Lexi could book her on a flight to Paris for an indefinite stay at such short notice.  
  
“You’ve been awfully quiet. I do hope you’re not planning to renege on the agreement we made, love,” James said, his manner still soft-spoken but his tone carrying a hint of ice. No, this was definitely not a man she was going to underestimate.  
  
“I heard you,” Sarah told him, annoyed. _Just get it over with._ “I keep my end of every bargain, Mr Cabot. A deal’s a deal. I owe you dinner.”  
  
“Excellent…”  
  
“But, after this, I do not want any more contact with you. No more phone calls or visits or anything of the sort.”  
  
“You make it sound as though I’ve been waiting for you in your lobby every day and ringing your office at every moment I get. I do have other things I do with my time, Sarah love.”  
  
At this, Sarah couldn’t help but grit her teeth. Jareth or not, the man definitely knew how to wind her up. She figured it wasn’t even what he was saying, but the manner as to which he said each statement: refined, collected, and just a little bit haughty, making it appear as though he was the only adult in the conversation.  
  
“Who’s to say you weren’t?” she shot back. “At any rate, I still don’t know you, Mr Cabot. We are practically strangers.”  
  
“Only because you’re being so hostile,” James said. “I can assure you though that should you prefer, we no longer have to be in contact following dinner. Just grant me this final rendezvous.”  
  
It seemed all too good to be true. Sarah narrowed her eyes.  
  
“There’s a catch here, isn’t there?”  
  
“Sarah, love, you’re the one who keeps insinuating on things that aren’t there. As I had stated before, I am not interested in pressing charges so you needn’t worry.”  
  
“So one…date…” the word was difficult to get out, “then we’re squared away, is that it? I no longer have to deal with you after?”  
  
“Forever and ever, amen. Unless you wish it.”  
  
_Unless you wish it._ The words, too reminiscent of the Goblin King, seemed to settle deep in her bones, slinking away into the darkest recesses and stirring up the hidden fear and fascination of him that she had always kept locked away. She rubbed the back of her neck as the tiny hairs on it stood on end.  
  
“All right,” she said before she could change her mind. “All right, tomorrow then.”  
  
“Fantastic,” James’ voice was still steady, although she could tell he was pleased. “7 PM, Rocco’s, Williamsburg. Unless you had a different preference?”  
  
“No,” She’d heard of it as one of the new hip eateries in the borough. “That’s fine.”  
  
“All right. I shall see you then.”  
  
The unmistakable sound of the dial tone echoed in her ears not even seconds after, and Sarah stared in disbelief at the receiver in her hand, not quite able to comprehend right away that James had, in fact, hung up on her.

 

* * *

 

“A date? On a weeknight?” Lexi said in disbelief when Sarah had to inevitably tell her of the dinner plans, to make sure her schedule would be in the clear. “Oh, wow, he must be something special, huh?”  
  
Sarah felt horrified at the younger woman’s pronouncement, although she could understand Lexi’s exuberance about James’ presence and his apparent impact on Sarah’s life and schedule. Work had always taken up all of her time, save for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and the occasions her family would make the trek to the city. She had not gone on a date in years, and her last boyfriend had been a two-year stint during the early years of her career. She found men tiresome, irritable, and boring at worst, but it was only recently that she had gotten down to wondering if her fickleness was caused by her always benchmarking them against…well, someone who was not even human.  
  
“Believe me, he isn’t,” she told Lexi. “We…just have a previous agreement, that’s all.”  
  
“He seems nice, if not a bit flirtatious…You and he seem awfully familiar to each other though. You sure you’ve not met before?”  
  
“In what way?” Sarah asked, attempting to look nonplussed, although she was listening very intently. Lexi shrugged.  
  
“I dunno…just the way you act towards him and how he had asked about you…like you had been friends before.”  
  
Sarah scoffed. “Believe me, he’s not. I’ve never seen him before, although I did have a friend who looked like him.” She had to force herself to say ‘friend’. “But that was so long ago.”  
  
“Well, _whatever_ it is…” Lexi tapped at her iPad. “Anyway, you’re free to play hookey tomorrow at the director’s meeting. I marked you down as having a family birthday dinner.”  
  
“Thanks, I owe you one. If you wanted to come along to turn it into a double date, feel free.”  
  
Lexi looked at her like she had grown two heads. “With whom, exactly? Wallace? I’d rather dip myself in hot oil.” She waved a manicured hand at her. “You go put on something nice and have fun with Johnny English. God knows you deserve it.”  
  
Sarah wanted to protest that this was _not_ a real date, or at least not one she had actually wanted to go on. “It’s a one-time thing. I won’t be seeing him after this.”  
  
“Sure sure,” Lexi said, smiling in the same way an indulgent parent would to a child.  
  
“No, _really._ ”  
  
“Sarah, chill out. It’s a date, not water torture. Just have a nice time. If you’re really annoyed by him, order the most ridiculous thing on the menu for him to pay for.” Lexi spoke with the easy expertise of someone who’d done it thousands of times before. Knowing her assistant, Sarah didn’t think that that was a far-off prospect. “It’s easy. Don’t think about it too much. You’re making it sound like it’s a calculus problem.”  
  
_It’s a piece of cake._ She could hear a younger version of herself saying the exact same words. She had stopped saying it after the Labyrinth, careful to steer clear of anything that could attract Jareth’s attention. Now, with the strange dreams she’d been having and the reality of James, she felt a trifle bolder.  
  
“Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll hear you out on this,” she said. “Piece of cake, right?” She tried to smile, even when the words that rolled off her tongue tasted foreign, as though she had said it in Chinese. Lexi grinned at her.  
  
“Yep, piece of cake. That’s the spirit.” She had pulled up the MTA schedule on her iPad and had started tapping away. “You should be out of here by 5:30 at the latest if you want to make it on time. And you’re going to Rocco’s right? Be sure to try the lamb with gremolata and polenta. It’s divine.”

 

* * *

  
  
The following day, Sarah made sure to clear most of her work by the first half of the day, barely talking to other colleagues, cancelling meetings, and rescheduling other activities to leave her free for that evening. By 5 PM, Lexi knocked on her door, reminding her that she needed to start getting ready and to split in the next half-hour, even going so far as to threaten that she was going to pull the fire alarm if Sarah didn’t get going.  
  
“You are the worst,” Sarah pulled a face at her.  
  
“I know for a fact that I am the _best_ ,” Lexi smiled sweetly as she handed Sarah her coat. “Have fun, be safe, don’t get roofied, and feel free to text if you need backup. I’ll be on Netflix the entire night.”  
  
Rocco’s was a slightly upscale restaurant near the water, several blocks away from the train station. Sarah opted to use an Uber, not willing to leg it in the unforgiving cold. Despite the reemerging sun after the long winter they had to endure, the temperature was still in the low twenties. That, and her chosen outfit of a black sweater, midi skirt, and statement heels were not appropriate for walking great distances in poor weather. The last thing she needed for tonight was frostbite.  
  
She arrived fifteen minutes early, which was nothing short of miraculous, given the typical Manhattan traffic. At first she thought she would be able to have some time to collect herself before James arrived, but was startled to see that he was also already there, sitting by himself at one of the middle tables, absorbed in a book that she recognized as a book of poetry by Neruda. She froze in the doorway, unsure if he’d seen her, but relaxed when it became apparent that he hadn’t. Not wanting to interrupt just yet, she took the time to study him from afar.  
  
He looked better now, the bruising on his face very nearly gone. He wore a berry-red sweater over a white button-down, a soft-looking navy sports coat, gray jeans, and brown leather boots. His large black overcoat was draped over the chair he was sitting in. He sat in a relaxed manner, as though he’d come to the restaurant to read the night away rather than have dinner with someone. Near his book was a half-full glass of wine and an iPhone. Sarah nearly laughed; Jareth with an iPhone was a sight to behold.  
  
She watched him for a few minutes more, observing as he took sips of his wine, turned the pages of the book, held his head in his free hand as he read. He didn’t once check his phone or his watch, which irritated her slightly. He _was_ waiting for her, wasn’t he? Or was he just too absorbed in his book? It was nearly 7 now. It couldn’t be the she was the only one who was nervous about this, but the more that she looked at James, the more it seemed that that was the case.  
  
Annoyed, she now approached, and James glanced up at her just when she was at the table. He smiled, put his book down, and stood to greet her.  
  
“So early in the evening and you already look vexed, Miss Williams. What have I done wrong now?” He teased her, as evident in the twinkle in his eye.  
  
_Exist,_ Sarah nearly said, but it was such a horrible thing to vocalize that she kept her mouth shut. Inwardly, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that some things couldn’t be helped. James had nothing to do with Jareth. James was _not_ Jareth.  
  
“Do sit down,” James walked towards the empty chair in front of his own and pulled it out so she could have a seat. When she was settled he returned to his own chair, Sarah discreetly watching his every move while simultaneously studying their surroundings. James fit in with the hipster Brooklyn crowd as well, and her curiosity about the man grew. If this wasn’t Jareth, who was he?  
  
“I must admit,” James said, as he adjusted his things on the wood-slab table so Sarah could have more space, “I didn’t think you would come.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sarah didn’t know whether or not to treat the statement as an insult. “I did say I would go.”  
  
“Yes, but I felt you were…unpredictable to say the least,” James gave her a smile that was almost shy. He ran a hand through his hair, the front and top of which were slightly longer compared to the sides, which were trimmed short. It was very nearly an undercut but the effect it had on James was that it made him look very neat and rather…well, _hot._ “At any rate…” Sarah had not noticed that James was still talking, “let’s order food first, shall we? I’ve been here for an hour at least and I’m already a bit peckish…”  
  
They summoned a waiter to the table: lamb with gremolata, grilled romaine salad, half an order of the squid ink pasta, and more wine with an additional glass for Sarah. James filled her glass up over the halfway mark at her insistence. Without Thomas to distract either of them, she figured she would need _a lot_ of alcohol to survive the next few hours.  
  
She waited for James to get the conversation rolling and consequently start to get on her nerves. To her surprise, he erred on the cautious side, not speaking until he was spoken to, although always in that calm manner that secretly exasperated her.  
  
“What are you _doing?”_ she finally had to ask as their orders were placed on the table. She was tired of getting one-sentence answers to the questions she threw: _Have you ever eaten here? / No; How does your face feel? / It doesn’t hurt as much anymore; Why did you pay for the appointment? / I wanted to._ James looked at her, expression entirely innocent.  
  
“Doing what?”  
  
“This,” she gestured at him. “I’m trying to start a conversation and you won’t…” She didn’t finish her sentence, already feeling mildly stupid. She did notice though that James had a knowing look in his eye.  
  
“I was under the impression that you didn’t really want to get to know me better, so I’m trying to keep the talk to a minimum,” he said, taking a serving of salad and moving it to his plate. He smiled at her. “I did say that I only desired the pleasure of your company at dinner. I’m perfectly happy just to sit here and share this meal with you. I won’t force any conversation if you didn’t want it.”  
  
“That’s not what I…” Sarah could kick herself. What _did_ she want? She had come expecting that he would be pretty much trying to woo and seduce her and she had been ready for it. The fact that he had done exactly the opposite left her thunderstruck. “I _do_ want to get to know you better,” she nearly spluttered, because she did, she _did…  
  
_ “Oh?” James put a lamb chop and a twirled mountain of pasta on her plate, the noodles so black she couldn’t even see where one ended and another began. He looked disinterested and for some reason, Sarah felt her stomach clench.  
  
“Yes. You come into my life, turn it upside down, and now you’re perfectly content to sit there and prepare to leave again. I’m not having it, Jareth, I simply am not.” She very nearly crossed her arms over her chest until she noticed her mistake. “I mean…James.”  
  
“I’m not sure it’s still me that you’re accusing or someone else. As I remember, I had very little choice in the manner as of which I met you.” James now looked at her curiously, head cocked to the side like an inquisitive puppy. “You are a peculiar bird, dear one. Jareth, hm? Is this the…king fellow you had mentioned before?”  
  
“Forget about it,” Sarah muttered, figuring she had embarrassed herself enough. _Get a grip._ “Just forget it.”  
  
“If you _are_ interested, however…” James’ tone was unsure, and he made it a point to avoid her gaze, “we can start afresh…I am aware our first meeting and the ones following it were less than ideal, to say the least.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Like this.” James cleared his throat, set his utensils down, and squared his shoulders. He held out his hand. “Hello, my name is James Cabot. And you are?”  
  
Sarah stared at him for a moment, wondered if it was a joke. James still held his hand aloft.  
  
“And you are?” he repeated. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile, making him look equally devilish and dashing.  
  
_Oh what the hell.  
  
_ “Sarah Williams.” She took his hand. His touch was warm and made her skin tingle. She thought she would instinctively pull away, but she didn’t.  
  
“Sarah Williams,” James said, looking pleased. He said her name as though it were a poem and held her fingers as though he was holding glass. “It’s my utmost pleasure to meet you.”

* * *

 

The night seemed to pass by easier after that, the two of them quickly engrossed in good food and conversation which although had its initial awkward moments, eventually softened into something they both got comfortable with. They did the full round of getting-to-know-yous starting with general talk about their jobs ( _Consulting economist for UN organizations / What the hell is that?!_ ), families ( _One sister, one brother-in-law, and two nephews, one niece. Your parents?_ / _Divorced, but my father remarried and I have a stepmother. I call her ‘Mom’ though. Yours?_ / _Married for nearly 45 years now and still disgustingly sweet with each other_ ), and various other things ( _I designed the book jacket of that edition of Neruda you were reading / You’re bloody kidding / What do you think of it? / Before you’d said that I’d thought it was a hack job)._ At one point, James had asked her once more about Jareth but she had deftly avoided the subject, and he had quickly lost interest.  
  
By the time they were sharing a chocolate and raspberry tart between the two of them, they had inched significantly closer, their heads nearly touching as they sat hunched over on opposite ends of the dessert plate. James had not really taken a liking to it, declaring it “too sweet” and instead had been enjoying picking out the whole raspberries hidden in the ganache and popping them into his mouth, much to Sarah’s chagrin. Two cups of strong coffee later, their dinner wound to a close, the end much more pleasant than either of them had expected.  
  
“I’ll get the cheque,” James offered, raising his hand to signal to the waiter.  
  
“No, I’ll get it.” Sarah felt a lightness in her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, but it could have very well been the wine. “You’ve already paid enough.”  
  
“You can pay the next time we meet then,” James said. He had already given his card to the waiter without even checking the receipt. “If there is one.”  
  
“I didn’t mean it when I said that,” Sarah felt embarrassed now after being reminded of what she’d said during the telephone conversation they had had. “I was…I just didn’t know you well enough yet that time.”  
  
“I don’t think you know me well enough yet now either,” James pointed out, although not unkindly. “Like you said, I could be anyone.” His eyes glittered under the light, their color such a clear glacier-blue that they seemed almost transparent. Warmth pooled in Sarah’s belly at the sight, and her heart gave a funny little jolt. She decided right then and there that she was not going to let this one slip from her grasp so easily.  
  
“I would very much like to continue attempting to know you then,” she said, far bolder than she had anticipated, “James Cabot, Consulting Economist, Hater of Sweets.”  
  
The laugh that came from the man in front of her was unexpected. It was a short burst of mirth, something which sounded as though it had surprised even him. When James turned to look at Sarah again, he was openly grinning.  
  
God, he was beautiful. Sarah could no longer deny it. He was bathed in the soft-gold glow of the restaurant lights, highlighting honey-colored hair, light caramel skin, ruby sweater. Although his resemblance to Jareth was quite striking, she could now see and recognize how James was his own man in every right.  
  
“What?” James asked, although she knew he had heard every word. “What?”  
  
“You heard me,” Sarah ducked her head in an attempt to hide her smile.  
  
“I believe you may have to repeat it…” He was somehow now sitting quite near her, his movements quick and liquid like a python’s. Sarah squealed in surprise as he inched his face closer, his breath hot and electric in her ear. “Say it again?”  
  
“No,” she gave him a playful shove. His close proximity to her made her dizzy, overwhelmed at how warm he was, how good he smelled…It seemed like a lifetime ago that she was intent on hating the man. “If you really want to try to take this further you have to pay closer attention.”  
  
“I would very much like to also continue attempting to know you,” James said in a lilting, teasing tone. “If you’ll allow me.”  
  
Their faces were nearly touching now but he went no further. His hand lay unfurled on his lap, an open invitation. Without a word, Sarah placed her hand in his, rubbing her knuckles gently against his palm. Then, before she could stop herself, she had closed the distance between them, her lips quickly and softly landing on James’ own.  
  
The kiss was chaste, but the feel of James’ lips against hers seemed to unlock in Sarah a deep carnal desire screaming _more more more._ She went in for another, and this time, it was deeper, her lips slowly but surely taking James in. He tasted of coffee and raspberries, of winter and earth. It was exhilarating.  
  
“Sarah…” James’ breath stuttered against her skin but he did not pull back. She did however, despite her lust increasing at an alarming rate. She did not want to take it any further than he was comfortable with.  
  
“Sorry,” she said, rather breathless. James’ eyes were cloudy and unfocused, his lips like a bruised peach from all her efforts. “I…I don’t know where that came from.”  
  
“Well I hadn’t expected that but do think I’d need more of it,” he said, his voice husky. His card had come back and he was in the middle of impatiently stuffing it into his wallet. “I do want to finish our little business somewhere more private, however. Shall we catch a cab?”  
  
“I got us an Uber,” Sarah said. The app had already been open on her phone throughout dinner as an emergency precaution. It had had no use until now, and now her ride was only a minute away. “Where were you…um…staying?” she asked. Her body felt overheated and she wanted nothing more than to have James alone, preferably somewhere away from the scrutiny of everyone else.  
  
James shook his head. “SoHo with my sister and her family.”  
  
Okay, no other choice. A message from her Uber driver made her jump to her feet, one hand now clenched in James’ own. “C’mon then.”  
  
Without another word, she stood up and tugged James along, trying very hard to hide the ecstatic grin that was slowly threatening to take over the entire lower half of her face.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay caramba, I find writing Sarah really hard actually. I see her as a very complex and fickle adult, the complexity brought on by the childishness that she never really quite got over. James is easier because I mostly base him on David and some of the characters he's played throughout the years. Gosh, I still can't believe he's gone. It's like...pft. You know? I still miss him like anything but writing this is quite therapeutic. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who've dropped kudos and have taken the time to comment! I really cherish them and they make the writing go so much faster! Peace and love to all. <3


	9. Chapter 9

The past 24 hours in James’ life had to have been one of the strangest by far.  
  
First off: he had actually opted to ask Olivia for advice on how to deal with Sarah. He had never, not once in the 37 years of his existence, ever considered asking his sister about any assistance regarding dealing with the opposite sex. One very good reason for that was he had actually never really _needed_ to. In the same way that academics and sports had always come easy for him, attracting females had seemed to be an innate talent he’d seemed to possess, until Sarah Williams came along and refuted that belief in one swift blow. The difficult phone conversation he had had with her had left him quite at a loss; he had no idea why she was always so hostile and combative, and ironically, the more she did it, the more it inexplicably drove him towards her. It was entirely maddening.  
  
His sister, of course, had known something had been off with him right off the bat. An hour or so after the phone call, she had taken him out to a nearby café with Thomas and Charlotte while waiting for Kit to get off school. After she had parked the babies on separate high chairs and had busied them with a paper cup full of warm steamed milk each, her interrogation had begun.  
  
“All right, spill then. What’s got you in such a mess? Aren’t you supposed to be on holiday?” Olivia had asked over a steaming cup of coffee. “And don’t give me any of that pish-posh. I know you well enough.”  
  
Despite him having planned to tell her about it anyway, James had felt irritated at the fact that she had caught on to him rather quickly. “How do you _do_ that?”  
  
“Part of my job as big sister. I believe it comes with the skill set.” She had given him one of her best shit-eating grins. She never let him quite forget that she was the oldest, as if the solid seven-year age gap was not enough.  
  
“ _What_ skill set? Perhaps you mean a lack thereof.”  
  
Olivia had ignored him then, in pretty much the same manner all big sisters ignored their little brothers, as though what he had just said merited no reply. Instead she had peered at him, scrutinizing his face. “I’m immensely glad to see your bruises are nearly gone…thank God. I can show Mummy and Daddy you now when we Skype. I was running out of excuses already. Although _now_ we have to endure what your face looks like in its full glory.”  
  
Normally, he would have bitten the bait, but James had been so emotionally exhausted that he had only managed an “Oh _hush_ ” for his sister’s efforts. Olivia had turned serious then, sensing his mood.  
  
“What’s wrong then, Jamie? You’ve been glum all morning.”  
  
James had sighed, irritated at the entire situation. Dealing with Sarah was difficult enough but the prospect of having his sister tease him about it in the future held him back. Although he’d had girlfriends before and Olivia was well-aware of his various exploits, this was something he had felt was more special, and so his tongue stayed.  
  
“Nothing of import….”  
  
“A girl, then.”  
  
_Blast it.  
__  
_ “Perhaps…” At that point, he’d thought he’d succeed with not telling her the full details, especially about the part where Sarah had been the culprit in turning half his face purple and yellow, but Thomas had made sure that was not to happen. At least, with regard to her name.  
  
“Sarah!” his nephew had suddenly exclaimed as though triggered, his mouth smeared and ringed with milk foam. “Sarah darlin’.”  
  
Olivia had raised her eyebrow at James in a manner that had looked so much like their mother’s, it had given him goosebumps. “ _Sarah_ , hm? _Darling?_ Interesting.”  
  
“She seems…immune to me, somehow,” he’d told Olivia, frowning. When she had started giggling, he hadn’t been able to help but glare at her. “Libby, it’s not funny at all.”  
  
“Oh you are such a _brat,_ James. You’re like a child who’s not been allowed a toy.”  
  
He had very nearly said “ _But it’s not fair_ ” out loud but then had quickly realized that proving his sister right, especially in the vulnerable position he was in, would put him in a precarious situation.  
  
“I like her,” he’d admitted to Olivia, although the strange attraction was something he still hadn’t figured out himself. “I like her and…I would like very much for her to like me back.”  
  
“Mummy, Sarah magic lady.” Thomas had supplied, spoon in his mouth. “Princess.”  
  
“She is, huh, Tommy?” Olivia had raised an eyebrow again, wiping Thomas’ mouth with a napkin. She had turned to James. “I suppose this was when you had lunch at Siam…?”  
  
“Yes,” James had always been upfront about his sister regarding the children’s whereabouts whenever they were with him. He had consciously neglected to tell her about his fainting incident however, and fortunately Thomas had also decided it had been a secret worth keeping for the meantime, the topic of Sarah far more interesting than anything else, apparently.  
  
“Please tell me this actually isn’t the first time you’re dealing with a girl who _doesn’t_ want to go out with you.” James had frowned, and it had given Olivia her answer. She had looked at him, mock-appalled. “That is _by far_ the most _terrible_ humblebrag I’ve ever seen or heard.”  
  
James’ frown had deepened, which Olivia had found more hilarious. “Libby…okay, I know it’s hysterical – _ha ha –_ but I had to come here for your advice,” he’d said, hoping his sister would get over herself as quickly as possible. Fortunately, she had managed to control her bearings enough to tell him what she had thought over the whole situation.  
  
“All right, very well. Poor baby brother needs female assistance. I really should record this…”  
  
“ _Olivia._ ”  
  
“First off, how serious do you want to get it with this girl?”  
  
It hadn’t even taken James five seconds to process the answer. “Hopefully to forever,” he’d blurted without pause.  
  
“My, we are a little lovestruck aren’t we?” Olivia had given him a sly smile, but quickly turned serious when she had become a recipient of a rather incensed glare from his end. “All right, if you want this girl…Sarah, right? To _like_ you, you have to mind your manners…”  
  
“I _do._ ”  
  
“Stop interrupting, dear one. Be your usual irresistible self but…be prepared to also _ignore_ her.”  
  
It had been the most preposterous thing James had ever heard. “What?”  
  
“Ignore her.” Olivia had repeated, as though he were a slow child. “Don’t rise to her challenge. If she’s feisty, she’ll eventually be frustrated by your nonchalance that she’ll approach you quite willingly. If she isn’t feisty…well, then you probably have your sights set on the wrong girl.” She had looked him in the eye. “Shy isn’t exactly your type, so I’m wagering it’s the former…”  
  
The conversation had largely ended there, as Charlotte had begun banging on her high chair with the spoon, demanding very loudly to be let out. He had had his doubts about the advice, but upon applying it to Sarah and shortly finding out the rather successful effect it had, he didn’t think he would ever have reservations about his sister’s words ever again, loathed as he was to admit it.  
  
Which then led to the Second Thing that officially made his life now Very Strange: they were now in Sarah’s apartment, both of them on the squashy suede sofa in the lamp-lit den, and Sarah was kissing him. Kissing him with the same lips that had cursed and grimaced at him nearly every single time they had encountered each other. Olivia’s advice had worked entirely _too_ well.  
  
“Sarah. Sarah…”  
  
They had been mostly quiet on the Uber ride home, sharing a few intimate kisses largely brought on by Sarah’s insistence. If he was honest about it, James could have kept at it forever, but she was a little drunk, he knew, so he had only responded to her in kind, restraining himself from pursuing anything further. He did not want to goad her into something she might not be ready for, but the way her fingers fumbled now at the collar of his shirt told him otherwise.  
  
“Love,” James said, stilling her restless hands, “are you sure?”  
  
“Of course,” she said, planting light kisses on his neck, soft as clouds by the dips and hollows by his throat. Her breath was hot and sweet against his skin and it took all of his self-control to not tear his clothes off at the first instance.  “I’m not _that_ drunk, James. Don’t you want to?”  
  
“Yes,” he held her wrists, not too tightly nor too firmly, just enough to get her attention. In the lamplight, Sarah’s eyes looked like a murky sea, and the tips of her nose and ears were tinged pink from the alcohol. She looked vulnerable and young and James knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of it. Besides, he didn’t want a shallow dalliance with this woman. He wanted something more lasting, more intimate.  
  
“Yes, but not this way. I don’t want you to end up doing something you might regret, especially when less than 24 hours ago you had hated the very core of my being.”  
  
Little exaggeration, but the guilty expression in Sarah’s face told him it was at least partly true.  
  
“I did _not_ ,” said Sarah heatedly, pushing herself off of him and landing with a huff on the spot beside him. Her hair that had previously been running through his fingers fell about her face like a wild chestnut mane, the ends of it curling at her shoulders. The play of light and darkness colored her in graying shadow and patches of gold and, despite her currently frowning at him, James didn’t think he had ever seen a more magnificent creature. “That’s a lie.”  
  
“Be that as it may…” he coaxed her to come closer by putting an arm around her and gently rubbing her shoulder with his fingers. He didn’t want to rush this. He had only just gotten her to warm up to him and he wasn’t going to blow it. “I really…I want to do this right.”  
  
“What do you _mean,_ exactly?” Sarah asked, although she had inched towards him. Whether or not it was on purpose, James chose to ignore for now. “Quit with the riddles and tell me what you mean.”  
  
“What I mean is…” He ran his finger up and down her bare arm. Her skin was like ripe fruit. “…is I want to…” He intertwined his fingers in hers and lifted her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. She smelled like lemons and cream. “…be more than…”  
  
_BANG!_ A sound loud as a gunshot reverberated throughout the whole apartment, and both he and Sarah jumped.  
  
“The fuck!” Sarah exclaimed, rushing to get off the sofa and investigate the source of the noise. Instinctively, James got to his feet to follow her, rattled at the suddenness and loudness of the sound. It only took three steps for them to get to the hallway where the front door hung wide open, nearly smashing into the large mirror that was on the wall of the entryway. Sarah looked aghast at the sight.  
  
“Did someone just try to break in??” she exclaimed, looking at the small space they were in rather frantically. James didn’t know what to make of it. He was still actually trying to process the situation when Sarah suddenly bolted out the door and headed towards the building’s stairs.  
  
“Sarah!” _What the bloody hell?_ “Sarah, have you lost your mind?”  
  
He shut the door prior to running after her, confused beyond belief. He could hear Sarah as she rushed down the stairwell chasing after god-knows-what. His heart beat against his chest so hard he felt as though his ribs would crack under the strain. “Sarah!”  
  
He caught up with her on the ground floor lobby, Sarah standing barefoot in the center, staring hard at the double doors that served as an entryway into the building. She whirled around as he reached her, her face nearly as white as plaster.  
  
“There’s no one there,” she declared.  
  
“Of course there’s not,” James said, breathless but thoroughly relieved. The lobby was well-lit but deserted. It was nearly midnight on a weeknight. He really didn’t know what she had expected. He didn’t know what _he_ had expected either.  
  
“I’d thought…I’d thought someone had been trying to break in and I’d be able to catch up to them.” Sarah looked confused. “Why did the door just fly open? I was _sure_ I’d locked it.”  
  
“We should go back upstairs,” James murmured, feeling winded from all their efforts. They were standing directly underneath the dusty grand chandelier that served as the main light fixture in the room, something James hadn’t noticed when he had first set foot in the building. It was quite beautiful and matched the art deco tiling and gilded plaster ceilings well, but the sight of it immediately unnerved him.  
  
_A sweeping ballroom, shimmering crystal, the rush and rustle of cloaks and feathers…  
  
_ He gave his head a vigorous shake. He felt a headache coming on, but waved it off as a side effect of all the wine they had consumed. He normally didn’t have such a low tolerance, but how many had he had at the restaurant? Three glasses? Four?  
  
“C’mon…” he directed his attentions towards Sarah, who was now slightly trembling. A draft had blown in from one of the open windows and neither of them had any coats on. “C’mon, let’s go back up. It was probably just the wind.”  
  
It was such a barmy excuse but was enough to get Sarah moving again. He held her arm as they clambered back up the stairs. Her building was one of the older ones in the Jewish quarter of the borough and had no elevators, and her unit was on the 4th floor. By the time they got there, James’ headache had intensified, but he ignored it in favor of checking out her apartment a final time and making sure no intruder was hiding inside.  
  
“Stay here,” he instructed her, hand on the doorknob of her front door.  
  
Sarah frowned at him. “But—”  
  
“I mean it,” James said firmly. He had a protective streak in him a mile wide, and it was currently blaring at him, instructing him to make sure to keep Sarah out of harm’s way. Although Sarah continued to glare at him, she didn’t make any moves to stop him from doing an initial stakeout.  
  
The door swung open easily and James let himself in. Sarah’s apartment was a railroad-type, essentially a long hallway that led off into different rooms: large bedroom on one end, den cum living-dining room on the other, one bathroom, a hallway closet, and a tiny kitchen that smelled vaguely of burnt sugar. James checked them one by one, turning on lights and looking behind doors. All of them were devoid of any living presence. All the windows were shut. He checked the door and the door knob as well, just to find an explanation for it swinging open so suddenly and viciously. The locks weren’t broken and there were no signs of a forced entry. It was just totally bizarre.  
  
“Coast is clear,” he told Sarah, opening the door wide and letting her in. She stormed in past him, doing her own inspection. James made sure to stand sentry at the door as she did a thorough examination of her surroundings.  
  
“I don’t get it,” she said, shaking her head, reappearing in the hallway as soon as had finished looking into every shadow. “That is totally fucking weird.”  
  
James secretly agreed but didn’t want to scare her so compromised with a slight nod. He was also mildly irritated at the fact that they had been interrupted, and there was pretty much no way of getting what had been such a jovial mood back after all the excitement. He cleared his throat.  
  
“I guess I…I should be heading out then…” he said, his heart sinking at his own suggestion. It was hardly gentlemanly now to keep staying, and Sarah would certainly still have work the next day. The vehement, almost-panicked “No!” that she shouted at him however was something he didn’t expect.  
  
“No!’ Sarah repeated. “I mean…if it isn’t weird…”  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
Sarah chewed her lip. “We were having such a nice time until that happened but now I…I don’t really want to stay here alone? You’re welcome to spend the night here, but if you’re not comfortable, then…” Her eyes darted to the two empty rooms on opposite ends of the hallway and James could see that there was real fear in her eyes. He didn’t blame her. It was New York City, after all. This was one place he didn’t doubt _anything_ could happen.    
  
“It’s fine with me if you’re not bothered with it,” he said, not quite believing his luck. “I wouldn’t want to impose however, so I’m amiable to sleeping on the sofa.”  
  
Sarah looked relieved. “Are you sure? I usually don’t do this but what’s happened just now is so strange…”  
  
“It’s fine. I don’t do this either, not until at least the second or third date.”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Sarah said, but she was smiling good-naturedly. She seemed to sag in relief, and James had to resist leaning in to kiss her right there and then. “Right…Okay, let me set up the sofa and then I’ll take a quick shower…”  
  
He followed her back to the den and then to the sofa where they had previously been. With all the lights on now the room had lost its romantic glow, and James could clearly see the paintings and various art prints that crowded the walls, and if not on them, then on canvases in various sizes, leaning against each other like drunks. Most of them were car crashes of lines and bursts of color, but a lot of them featured a constant character: that of a thin man dressed in black, always some distance away…  
  
“Interesting art you’ve got here.” James commented. There were also several awards for design. The fact that Sarah had drawn some of the designs for some book covers he had found aesthetically pleasing was impressive. “Did you make them all?”  
  
“Some of them my brother made,” she said. She had divested the sofa of the cushions that littered its surface, and had replaced them with a singular pillow and spare blanket. The sight of it made his headache let up a bit, as though his body knew that the only thing he needed at the moment was sleep. He sat down on it as soon as Sarah gave him leave and when she didn’t object, took off his shoes and blazer, then stretched out to lie down.  
  
“TV remote’s here if you want to watch,” Sarah said, pointing it out on the coffee table where his coat was. “I’m going to take a shower and then…if you still wanted to talk…” she trailed off, unsure.  
  
“I’ll be here,” James assured her. His head now felt heavy and clogged up, and it took unbelievable strength to keep his eyes open. He yawned. “If I fall asleep, please feel free to wake me.” Bugger it all, why was he so _tired_?  
  
“Sure,” Sarah said. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it but it felt as though she brushed her fingers through his hair. “Wait for me, okay? I’ll only be a little while.”  
  
She walked out of the room after that, leaving James feeling incredibly content. He still had a lingering headache but nothing really mattered now. He was with Sarah, and for some strange reason, everything was going _well.  
  
_ “Slow and steady wins the race,” he mumbled to himself. He still couldn’t entirely wrap his head around how unreal the day had been, but he was adamant at not questioning it.  
  
He relaxed a bit more and let himself sink into the pillow. Noises from the city, the classic New York lullaby, filtered in through the closed glass windows: a dog barking, a siren blaring, a horn honking. The sound of water hitting tiles in the bathroom contributed to the ambient background noise, as well as the faint sound of Sarah humming. James shut his eyes for a second, wanting nothing more but to let himself linger in warm contentment.  
  
Within seconds and without really meaning to, he was sound asleep.

 

* * *

 

 _What do you_ mean _he’s found her?  
  
__He’s found her, sire. Undoubtedly.  
  
__And what does THAT mean?  
  
__I…We don’t really know, sire. This has never…this has never happened before.  
  
_ A glow enveloped the room.  
  
_I can no longer see his path.  
  
__Sire.  
  
_ A crash. The throne room shook.  
  
_Get me the Queen._

* * *

 

The world rippled, and changed.  
  
_Once upon a time there was a mighty King with a powerful Queen, and they ruled a beautiful, vast, and terrible Kingdom.  
  
_ Stone crumbled. Snow fell.  
  
_They had a Prince, who became the King of Darkness and Dreams.  
  
_ Drops of blood on white feathers. The lingering scent of rot and decay.  
  
_Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl.  
  
_ A searing pain. A glowing light.  
  
_And she, out of everyone in existence…  
  
_ Green eyes, brown hair, soft hands.  
  
“Jareth.”  
  
_…held the fate of the Underground in her palm.  
  
_ Blonde hair, blue eyes, small hands.  
  
“James.”

 

* * *

 

 James woke up with a splitting headache and a strong urge to vomit.  
  
At first he didn’t know where he was. The room he was in was entirely unfamiliar and the only thing that seemed to matter was he get on his feet and _run,_ which is what he did. It was only when he managed to miraculously find the bathroom and breathe in the smell of honey-scented soap that he recognized where he was, although his thought process was quickly interrupted by the fact that he had to empty his stomach into the waiting toilet.  
  
It seemed to take forever before he finally stopped retching. By then, he was sure he had thrown up at least his entire half of the very expensive dinner they’d had. He groaned after flushing the entire mess down the drain, resting his face against the cool tile. He felt absolutely _foul.  
  
_ “James?” came a voice from the other side of the door. Sarah. Worried.  
  
“I’ll be out in a sec, love,” he called out, although his voice sounded small. He closed his eyes to make his vision stop spinning. It was still dark out, as far as he could tell. He was in the apartment of a girl he actually liked and he was suffering from what seemed to be some sort of stomach bug. Bloody _great.  
  
_ “Are you all right? Are you sick?”  
  
Blast it all, she couldn’t see him like this. James forced himself to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut when the room pitched and rolled again. Bloody hell, it felt as though his brain was being squeezed by a vise. He braced himself against the sink and turned the tap on. The cold water that he splashed on his face and that he rinsed the inside of his mouth with made him shiver and wince, his nerves firing up in the same way they did when he was ill.  
  
“If you don’t open this door in 3 seconds…”  
  
He wrenched the door open before Sarah could pick the lock, unwilling to sacrifice his dignity. She stood in the narrow hallway, illuminated by an open light in the bedroom, wearing a silk kimono. She was sleep-tousled but wide-eyed. She touched his face the moment she saw him, and he shuddered inwardly.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked. She touched his forehead, then his cheek. James wanted to move from her hand but lacked the strength to. “You’re a bit warm. Was it the food?”  
  
James gave her a half-hearted shrug. He couldn’t care less at this point. He was achy and exhausted and his head was fit to explode. “Not sure. I’d take an aspirin if you have it. My head is killing me.”  
  
“Oh! Oh sure, c’mon, let me…”  
  
She led him into her bedroom and had him sit on her bed. The lamplight, though weak, made his head throb more, and James had to shut his eyes. The room smelled of _her_ though, and it calmed him significantly. Fucking hell, when _was_ the last time he had been ill? What absolutely rotten luck.  
  
“Here,” she pressed two aspirin into his palm and a glass of water into the other. James took it without hesitation. When he dared to open his eyes once more, she was staring down at him worriedly.  
  
“It might be a bug my nephew brought home from school,” he said, because it probably was. “Don’t fret, Sarah.”  
  
“Are you sure? You look terrible.”  
  
James didn’t reply. He’d already gotten a glimpse of himself in the bathroom.  
  
“I’ll get out of your hair so you can sleep…” he made to stand again, but nearly fell over when a fresh wave of nausea threatened to topple him. Sarah caught his elbow then quickly pushed him to sit back down on the bed.  
  
“No, just…lie down there,” she said.  
  
“I will _not,_ ” James protested. True, he could be caddish, but he respected and liked Sarah far too much to agree on this arrangement.  
  
“Lie _down,”_ Sarah said, this time her eyes flashing dangerously. She also had the upper hand, pushing him rather forcefully onto the mattress by the chest. Given his weakened state, James could only really glare at her back. “And calm down, will you? I don’t plan on undressing you without your consent.”  
  
“I do not agree with this.”  
  
“Tough shit then,” Sarah answered. “You look like hell and I probably need to keep an eye on you just in case anyway. You might still need the bathroom and hit your head on the way or something.”  
  
“I _resent_ that.” When it appeared that she wasn’t going to change her mind, James tried to appeal through her sense of propriety. “This is highly inappropriate. This is your home. I cannot be robbing you of your bed.”  
  
Sarah huffed at him. “Who says you are? I have to check a few things for work via email anyway, so I won’t be sleeping til later. Don’t worry so much.” And then, as if to prove her point, she brandished a Macbook Air from seemingly nowhere, waving it in the air.  
  
James wanted to argue more but couldn’t bear to keep his eyes open any longer. He lifted his arm to cover them, willing for his headache to vanish so he could regain the strength to leave the room with dignity. Waves of pain washed over him, and he briefly regretted the amount of wine he had ingested, which was most certainly doing a number on his stomach. He didn’t realize he had groaned out loud until he felt the bed dip beside him, and then fingers slowly running through his hair.  
  
“James,” Sarah said, her voice low, mindful of his headache. “Do you need me to call a doctor?”  
  
“No,” he said immediately, the word nearly coming out as a gasp. He didn't need her to make this more embarrassing than it already was. This was ridiculous. “No. I’ve been getting headaches on and off. Must be the stress.”  
  
“Okay…” Sarah’s voice seemed further away. “But I’ll keep a close eye on you. If you get worse, I’m calling 911.”  
  
He couldn’t really blame her. He was virtually a stranger and might drop dead at her apartment.  
  
“I won’t die,” he said stubbornly. “I won’t disappear that easily.”  
  
“No, I can see you won’t.” There were fingers running through his hair again, and it alleviated the pain, if only for a bit. He nearly sighed in relief. “You fell asleep on me a while ago.”  
  
Ah. Yes, he did. He had even dreamt…something. He couldn’t remember now what it was.  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled.  
  
“No you aren’t,” she said, but humor colored her tone. He cracked a smile, although darkness was quickly engulfing him again, comforted by Sarah’s presence and her scent surrounding him.  
  
“Go to sleep,” he heard her say.  
  
James obeyed without a second thought.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only really ever write chapters for this story whenever I miss Bowie. 
> 
> And I have been missing him. Very very much. 
> 
> Hope you're happy among the stars, David.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: a bit of NSFW things in this chapter.

There was a child in the Labyrinth.  
  
Sarah saw her just as she turned the corner: a little girl with hair so blonde it was almost white, and large blue eyes set into a small pale face. She didn’t seem to be older than six or seven, and was wearing a navy blue sweater with a gold crest on the left-hand side, a grey skirt, thick stockings and tiny patent leather shoes. She was a burst of light in the darkened corridor, and Sarah had almost mistook her for a ghost.  
  
“Who are you?” The child said. Her voice was smooth, the British vowels sharp and clear as crystal. She didn’t seem afraid, only curious, tilting her head at Sarah as though she didn’t quite know what to make of her.  
  
“Are you…” Sarah’s mouth was dry. She had taken a step back when she had initially seen her. Now she made no move forward, erring on the side of caution. Using the shadows to cloak herself, she cleared her throat and spoke a little louder. “Are you from here?”  
  
She wondered if the child was a wish-away, or even a runner. The little girl looked and acted human but barely had a speck of dust on her, as though she was a wanderer in the Labyrinth as much as Sarah was. At her question, the child shook her head.  
  
“No,” she said, but said nothing more.  
  
“Were you looking for someone?” Sarah asked. The presence of someone else in what seemed to be a dead Labyrinth unnerved her greatly. The only sound that could seemingly be heard for miles were their voices. “Were you…looking for your brother or sister?”  
  
The little girl frowned. “I don’t have one. I was looking for the King.”  
  
The statement was so matter-of-fact that Sarah felt a bit taken aback. Who was this child?  
  
“The King?” Sarah repeated. “Jareth?”  
  
“I don’t know his name.” The little girl seemed troubled all of a sudden. She looked at her feet then at the surrounding shadows. “But he’s the King, and he made me a promise. I _must_ find him.”  
  
The ground beneath them suddenly shook, as though they were in the belly of some great beast. A deep and unknown fear thrummed in Sarah’s veins.

“I’ve got to go…” the little girl said then started to run towards the shadows that lay beyond, towards the gaping blackness that Sarah knew not where it led.  
  
“Wait!” she said, holding out her arm as though to snatch the child back. The sound of her voice rang loudly against the stone, the echoes quickly bouncing back to her like the tolling of a bell. She made up her mind to chase after the little girl but the ground shook once more, this time nearly strong enough to knock Sarah off her feet. She was able to grasp the wall nearest her to keep her balance, and gasped in shock at how it felt, so cold it burned like fire.  
  
Sarah snatched her hand back, holding her clenched fist close to her chest. The ground had steadied, and she was able to look up.  
  
A dead end stood a foot from her, the path the little girl had taken now gone. She was left again with the deafening silence, and the sickening thought that maybe nobody had ever been there at all.

 

* * *

 

Perhaps it was how the dream had ended, or the unsettling feeling that had suddenly enveloped her, but Sarah woke up from her sleep very suddenly, the sensation of her spirit slamming back into her body jolting her a bit. Her eyes snapped open involuntarily, and almost immediately she was made aware of the throbbing sensation in her head, an unwelcome reminder of her age and how increasingly undesirable ingesting absurd amounts of alcohol was.  
  
 _Fuck,_ she cursed at herself, squeezing her eyes shut once more. Her mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. _You’re no longer twenty, Sarah. Get yourself under control.  
  
_ She unconsciously stretched her arm out across the bed, frowning when her hand met cold sheets.  
  
Empty. Her bed was empty apart from her. That didn’t seem right.  
  
Sarah wrenched her eyes open. “James?” she said, the name spilling out of her mouth before she could even process it was whom she was looking for. Looking beyond the space she could see her bedroom door was closed. Ignoring her headache altogether, she sat up and quickly got to her feet, suddenly feeling irrationally worried. Last night’s events swiftly came back to her in odd bits and pieces. She hoped he hadn’t been taken more ill. She hadn’t even noticed that she’d also fallen asleep.  
  
It was early still, based on the purple light that entered the apartment like thick gauze through the frosted windows. The hallway beyond her bedroom was cold, and she shivered. The heating had probably conked out in the middle of the night. The hardwood floor underneath her feet felt like stone, and it reminded her, for a split second, of the Labyrinth. Although her most recent dream had already faded into the ether, the suffocating feeling of dread had stayed.  
  
“James?” she called out, a little louder now. Her bathroom was clean and empty, and so was the kitchen. All that was left was her large spare room that doubled as a studio-dining room and living quarters for whenever her family came over. As she passed by the front door on the way, she felt a prickle of fear at the base of her neck, the memory of it slamming open unaided still fresh, but Sarah paid it no heed, intent on her mission.  
  
A thick canvas curtain separated the end room from the hallway, and she instinctively held her breath as she pulled the curtain aside to check and see if her unexpected houseguest was still there. She had already geared herself up for disappointment so was rather relieved when she saw a rumpled mess of blankets on her sofa covering up a shapeless lump. Half of James’ face was still visible, the covers pulled up to just below his nose. The morning half-light colored him in shades of lilac and periwinkle, but left his tousled hair almost cotton-colored.  
  
 _I was looking for the King…  
  
_ “Sarah?”  
  
Sarah blinked. She had somehow moved forward and was now knelt in front of James. Her hand was touching his face and he was squinting blearily at her.  
  
“What’s the matter?” And then, as though alerted, he sat up, eyes quickly sharpening as he took note of his surroundings. He had held Sarah’s hand in place so that it was still resting on his cheek. “Did something happen again? Are you all right?”  
  
“I…” Sarah felt embarrassment flooding into her. She jerked her hand back. “I thought you’d left.”  
  
“Oh.” At her statement, James’ expression changed from watchfulness to relief. His body slumped forward as he rubbed his eyes, then ran a hand through his hair as though to neaten it. “No, sorry, I…” he yawned. “I woke up an hour or so ago and just moved to give you your bed back. What…what time is it?”  
  
Sarah didn’t know. She had at least several clocks in her apartment but none told the correct time. “Still early,” she said, noting the sunrise creeping across the landscape. She tapped James’ knee. “Budge up.”  
  
James obeyed, rubbing his forehead, and Sarah took the spot on the sofa next to him.  
  
“Are you feeling any better?” she asked. She took the liberty of her question to reach out and touch his face once more. He was still a bit pale but his temperature felt normal. He didn’t budge when she moved to feel his forehead, just to make sure. She pretended not to see when he closed his eyes at her touch. “Well, you’re not so warm anymore but you were in a pretty bad way last night.”  
  
“I’m quite alright now. I didn’t have to get up to go to the bathroom again,” James said. He looked as puzzled as she felt. “Just a bit tired.”  
  
“It must have been a reaction to something.” Sarah touched his cheek, then his neck. Although he had gooseflesh, his temperature was normal. Strange. “You’ve never had any like it before?”  
  
“You mean like an allergy?” James shook his head. “No. Only Americans have those dreadful things.”  
  
“And you guys don’t?” Sarah made a face at him. _Honestly.  
  
_ “The British have stronger constitutions.”  
  
“Oh I see,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “That’s probably why _I_ was the one on my knees puking my guts out at like 2 in the morning.”  
  
James caught the barb but didn’t look dissuaded. He gave her a lopsided smile. “Merely an exception to the rule.”  
  
Sarah gave his shoulder a playful push, feeling immensely relieved. The feeling of unrest that had been pressing down on her chest had abated for now. The reality of the rising dawn with James beside her, warm and smiling and seemingly recovered, made her strange, unsettling dream insignificant for the time being. The only thing left that she had to deal with was a lingering hangover and a grumbling stomach.  
  
“D’you want some breakfast?” she offered. She figured he might want something to line his belly with after emptying it so violently the night before. “I can make us some tea and toast.”  
  
James looked at her gratefully. “If it’s not too much trouble, love,” he said. “I can help you if you’d like? I do know how to work an appliance or two.”  
  
“Are you always this polite?” Sarah teased as she stood up from the sofa and started to lead the way into the kitchen. James followed her, yawning.  
  
“Only because it’s still so bloody early, I can’t think straight yet.” He entered the tiny kitchen behind her, watching as she got them both glasses of water to start with. He looked different in the pale light, walking around with socked feet with his shirt untucked, his sweater rumpled, and his face carrying creases from sleeping on the sofa. He looked more vulnerable somehow, and he acted it too, moving as though his bones were made of hollow glass. It was certainly something Jareth would never appear as, and for that, Sarah was secretly pleased. “Do you always get up at this hour?”  
  
“Yep,” she replied, popping the P. His statement had reminded her that today was actually a workday and that she had already most likely slept through both her usual alarms. _Huh._ She somehow didn’t feel so perturbed about that.  
  
James had drained his glass of water and had placed the empty container in the sink. A bit of color had returned to his face and he looked like he even felt slightly better. “Right, that actually felt good,” he confirmed. “Thank you.”  
  
Sarah directed him to sit at the bar area she had installed against the wall to generally keep him out of her way. “I’ll make us some toast,” she said. “Do you want tea or coffee? Tea would probably be better, won’t it?”  
  
“I don’t really like tea, to be honest. That’s probably treason for me to say, but I really don’t,” James made a face. “My sister does, but she doesn’t drink it here. Keeps insisting it’s made wrong.”  
  
“She’s probably right,” Sarah said as she got out plain bagels to toast. Her kitchen was so tiny every step she took entailed her bumping into James, who watched her every movement with eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep. “Do you wanna go back to the couch?” she offered. James shook his head.  
  
“No, this is quite nice. Here, let me make myself useful. Do you want coffee? I know how to work a Keurig…”  
  
Breakfast was quickly accomplished in companionable silence, the fridge-like cold of her apartment giving way to a comfortable warmth as the sun rose slowly and ever higher over the city. Sarah got several bagel halves toasted and put them on plates, then got butter, cream cheese, and blueberry jam from the refrigerator. James was able to figure out her temperamental Keurig and got Sarah’s requested coffee into her Lisa Frank mug. He was smiling as they moved out of the kitchen and back into the end room where the dining table was.  
  
“I can’t believe you _like_ this monstrosity,” he said, handing her her mug while wrinkling his nose at its predominantly purple-and-pink color scheme. A large white cat wearing a tiara by an open jewelry box was its main design and smiled smugly at both of them.  
  
“What? I like it. My brother gave it to me one Christmas,” Sarah took several sips of her coffee, relishing as the hot liquid warmed her insides and somewhat muffled her headache. “I bet your sister keeps all _your_ gifts. It’s hard enough to even get brothers to remember your birthday.”  
  
“You’re luckier as I never even started giving Olivia gifts until I started working. And only of course if I needed something,” James said, not even looking the least bit sorry. He reached for a bagel and placed it on his plate.  
  
Sarah mock-gasped. “You’re horrible.”  
  
James laughed. “Me? You’ve not met my sister. She has everything she can possibly need and want. Do you know how difficult it is to give someone like that a gift?”  
  
“I _do_ know. It’s not an excuse.” Despite herself, she smiled. “Toby sounds like an absolute angel compared to you. And that’s considering he’s fifteen now and is driving everyone nuts with his teenage angst.”  
  
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” James said. “Olivia called me ‘holy terror’ and its variations too many times growing up.”  
  
 _At least she didn’t wish you away to the Goblin King,_ Sarah thought of saying but stopped herself just in time. She glanced up at James to see if he had any further reactions but he was only unhurriedly chewing on his breakfast. It didn’t escape her that he was sitting directly under one of her paintings that featured Jareth’s silhouette, but she quickly averted her eyes, intent on ignoring _anything_ that had to do with the Labyrinth for now.  
  
Their banter continued as they ate. James, apparently, wasn’t really a big breakfast-eater but did manage to finish half of a plain bagel, and agreed to accept Sarah’s offer of an apple from the fruit bowl. Sarah was picking through a carton of strawberries when she suddenly heard her phone ring in the bedroom.  
  
“Uh oh,” James said, raising his eyebrows. “Looking for you already, are they?”  
  
“Just the one,” Sarah said as she got up from the table. She already dreaded the conversation that was about to take place. It was nearly 8 AM. It was a Friday, and she wasn’t even within a 200-m radius of her office building. She knew exactly whom it would be. “Be right back.”  
  
Her phone was buried somewhere under the many covers on her bed and it took a fair bit of time before she could actually retrieve it. By the time she had it in her hands, it was Lexi’s third straight attempt to call.  
  
“Oh thank God! Sarah? Hello?” Lexi all but screeched the minute she jabbed the Answer button on her screen and held it to her ear.   
  
Sarah winced at her volume. She’d never actually sent Lexi into a panic before and was sorely regretting having done it now. “Lexi! Yes, yes, it’s me. Calm down.”  
  
“Don’t do that to me again!” Her assistant sounded perilously close to tears. “I thought you’d gone and died because the hot looker was actually a psychopath. If you’d gone missing I would’ve been the only one who’d known where you’d gone and I can’t handle that. I can’t even handle watching Law and Order!”  
  
“Calm down. I’m fine. I’m just…” She let her assistant gather herself first. She had probably hidden in Sarah’s office to make the phone call to keep away from prying eyes. “Lex, listen. I’m calling in sick today. Could you cover for me?”  
  
“You _what?_ ” Lexi sounded betrayed, which only made Sarah’s remorse grow, but only just a bit. _“_ Does that mean…where _are_ you? Are you at his place?”  
  
“No, mine. Listen, I really need you to do this for me. Will you? Please?”  
  
“I mean, yeah, of course,” her assistant sputtered. “You could have just _told_ me you were bunking off though, Jesus Christ, Sarah.”  
  
“Sorry,” Sarah said, biting her lower lip. She _was_ quite remorseful now, so her apology was genuine. “Sorry, Lex, I really didn’t…that was me being an asshole. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”  
  
“Well, it really won’t, because any future dates you’re having with Fight Club over there you’ll have to tell me in advance, for schedule and gossip purposes.”  
  
She didn’t even want to correct the notion in her usual manner by saying that there may not even be any future dates. No, future dates were _totally_ happening. “Deal.”  
  
“And honestly, Sarah, you’re three weeks ahead of the work anyway, so it’s no problem. I’ll just reschedule all the meetings to Monday. You _will_ be in by then, right?”  
  
“Yes, I will, thank you,” Sarah cut her off before she could proceed to ask questions on a more personal level, as Lexi was wont to do. Although she normally wouldn’t hesitate to spill to the younger woman under different circumstances, now was really not the time. “Thank you, I promise I’ll update you, just…not now, okay?”  
  
“Okay, okay, got it. But remember, you have me on speed dial if you need anything right? Backup, getaway car, anything.”  
  
“Always,” Sarah smiled. “Thanks, Lexi. Gotta go.”  
  
She hung up feeling immensely pleased with herself. It was the first sick leave she’d taken since joining the company 8 years ago and it gave her a childish thrill knowing that she had taken it for other reasons. She was absolutely in no mood to go through the meetings she knew had been lined up for the day. After last night’s events, she just wanted a slow morning, preferably with her accidental flatmate. She wanted to finish the conversation that they’d already started to have, if only that fucking door hadn’t interrupted them.  
  
She touched the inside of her wrist; the skin still tingled where James had kissed it. _I want to…be more than…  
  
_ Nearly lightheaded with desire, she sauntered back into the end room, where she saw James had moved from the dining table back to the sofa. He was sitting in the spot he’d been in earlier, seemingly asleep, with his head leaning back so it lay against the top. He opened his eyes as Sarah approached, turning his head enough to give her a lazy smile.  
  
“Hello, how’d that go?” he asked. “Are you in trouble?”  
  
“Not even close,” Sarah said as she got close enough to sit beside him. She peered at him, worry quickly dampening the beginnings of lust that had started pooling in her insides. “You all right?”  
  
“Yes. Just a bit sleepy,” James closed his eyes once more. “I was always useless in the morning growing up. They had to drag me out of bed.”  
  
“Hm,” Sarah said, unsure whether or not she should believe him. He did look exhausted, although it could be due to a number of things. She touched his arm to gauge his temperature; it felt normal. Maybe he _was_ just tired.  
  
“Why the suspicious noise, my darling?” James cracked an eye open to stare at her. A corner of his lip was still curled into a small grin.  
  
Sarah felt her cheeks flush. “I _told_ you not to call me that.”  
  
“You do like it though. I can see you blushing all the way from Queens.”  
  
She was very quickly reminded of how much of an asshole James could be. “Don’t,” she warned him. “I’m not telling you again.”  
  
At that, James did look immediately regretful, possibly catching the ice in her tone. “All right, love. I apologize.” He reached for her hand which she had left lying in the space between them. When she didn’t move it, she felt as he gingerly wound his fingers around hers, until their hands were gently clasped together. He held it up and gently kissed her knuckles.  
  
“What _are_ you doing?” Sarah asked, bewildered, although didn’t pull her hand back.  
  
James hummed under his breath as his lips brushed against her skin. “Nothing,” he said, smiling. When she tried to pull her hand back he only held it tighter, pulling it instead close to his chest and closing his eyes as though to fall back asleep. In retaliation, Sarah poked his side; he jerked instinctively under her touch.  
  
“Ah, you’re ticklish,” Sarah said, feeling gleeful.  
  
“That is unfair,” James made a face at her, looking a cross between annoyed and amused. “I’ve just recovered from illness and already you’re aggravating my condition.”  
  
“Who says? Also, you’ve held my hand hostage.”  
  
James held her hand against him, close enough for Sarah to feel his heartbeat against her palm. “Come get it then.”  
  
What happened next was a rather impromptu tussle which involved a lot of jabbing at unprotected sides, James reacting more than Sarah, and finally calling defeat once Sarah managed to wrench her hand free, but without first hauling James off of his spot on the sofa.  
  
“Blimey,” James grumbled, as Sarah sat on him, triumphant. He was now pinned under her as he lay on the floor. “If I’d known you’d grown up with a pack of wrestlers I probably wouldn’t even have attempted any challenge.”  
  
Sarah laughed. Even before her encounter with the Labyrinth she’d never been one of those girls who was satisfied with watching from the sidelines, afraid of getting their clothes wrinkled. Her mother had forever given her grief for it, but it had proven a useful talent to have when Toby was growing up.  
  
“You _whine_ too much,” she admonished him.  
  
“Oh I _do,_ do I? You fight _dirty,_ Sarah Williams.”  
  
“Or perhaps,” she leaned forward to have her face hover over his, “you’re just too genteel, Mr. Cabot?”  
  
The mood suddenly shifted, and she caught as James’ eyes glimmered mischievously at her words. “Oh _am_ I?”  
  
Suddenly emboldened, given that he was trapped underneath her, Sarah smirked at him before inching her face closer. Her lips were now only a breath away from his, so close she could feel their warmth despite not touching. She remembered having wanted to utterly consume him last night and him refusing; it had nearly driven her mad with desire.  
  
Sarah tested the waters. “Perhaps you’d like to prove me wrong then?”  
  
James cocked his head, as though in reply to her challenge. She could practically feel him straining to keep himself in line. _Yes, yes, fucking_ _yes.  
  
_ “Say your right words,” he said, and a part of her shivered at the familiar statement. _Not Jareth,_ she reminded herself quickly, lest she fall down that rabbit hole again. It seemed like a mantra in her head now, especially since the expression James was currently wearing was one she wouldn’t find strange on his doppelganger. _Not Jareth.  
  
_ “I,” she kissed the tip of his nose, light as a butterfly’s wing, before she could stop to think, “dare,” she brushed his lips with her fingers, “you.”  
  
She had no real recall of what happened next, only that her lips were against James, once, twice, quicker, then slower, tongue meeting tongue, hot and wet and salt and _oh so good._ In the midst of it all, she found herself pushed against the pile of cushions on the floor, James nipping at her neck, her earlobes, her jawline. She had maybe underestimated how strong the man was, letting out a small squeal mid-kiss as he bodily carried her off the floor and laid her out on the empty sofa. Sarah was all too pleased to note that the upholstery now even smelled faintly of his cologne.  
  
“Oh, Sarah,” James breathed heavily against her as she fiddled with his belt. His mismatched eyes now had a glint in them that instilled in Sarah a slight sense of fear. _Danger,_ that incessant voice in the back of her head said again, more insistent this time. _Danger!_  
  
Her fingers stilled as James’ lips danced over the hollow of her throat.  
  
“Sarah, Sarah. Sarah.”  
  
James’ fingers, with her permission, had already started exploring her most intimate corners. Sarah let out a strangled gasp as he rubbed two of his digits in gentle, rhythmic circles, feather-light, against the folds of her clit, almost immediately engulfing her lower regions in pleasurable fire. Either the man knew what he was doing or Sarah was only too ready to accommodate him. In the daze she was in she wanted to think it was more the former than the latter.  
  
“James,” she panted, his lips moving ever lower. Her hands were on his head, her fingers deep in the soft folds of his hair. “James, please.”  
  
She felt him smile against her skin, his movements relentless, apparently adamant at turning her bones into jelly. His free hand fondled the peaks and valleys of her breasts, before venturing downward and pushing her legs apart. In another swift movement, her underwear was a crumpled heap on the floor.  
  
A kiss on the inside of her thigh, a quick swipe of tongue on her entrance. Words barely heard as she felt lips and tongue edged closer to her intimate region: “Be careful what you wish for, love.”  
  
Quickly after, the world fell apart, shattering in shards and stars.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It was at that moment that the Underground shook. It had come suddenly, and quickly, a distant rumbling of the earth that suddenly became jarring enough to make the stones of the castle groan.  
  
Oberon, flint-eyed and tense, had one instinct only, and that was to rush to the Royal Wing where only he, his wife, and son were allowed in, abandoning the Court he was holding to ensure the safety of his family.  
  
“Stand down!” he commanded to the Royal Guard as they made haste to follow in his wake. He could not risk for anyone to know of what their King concealed in the Wing. At his command, the Royal Guard halted and bowed. In the shadows, he saw as Goodfellow watched in silence.  
  
Although he knew not how, he was certain this new development was caused by what he and his wife had done.  
  
On the way, the ground quaked once more, and he was thrown off his feet. He only managed to shapeshift into his avian form, a sleek raven with glossy blue-black feathers, to prevent himself from sprawling on the floor in an undignified manner. From all throughout the Kingdom, he could hear his people’s cries of alarm, their distress over what was happening so palpable that his head felt near exploding. The Underground was impenetrable and immune from war, pestilence, disease, and the sudden movement of the earth under their feet was certainly not anything to sniff at.  
  
Despite it all, however, he felt a wave of calm overwhelm his thoughts, and Titania’s voice, her Call to him, cut through the fog, overpowering every other noise in his head. He was not, however, prepared for what she had to say:  
  
 _Husband. Fly swiftly. I fear this is the beginning of the end._

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Sleeping over at Sarah’s apartment had not been part of James’ plans, more so anything else that followed thereafter. James had not, in his wildest dreams, considered he would get so lucky on the first try, being that Sarah was as unpredictable as a maelstrom and, he suspected, could wreak thrice as much damage, but as he looked up at her where she lounged fully naked on her bed, looking like a dark-haired modern-day Venus watching him as she tied his shoes, he decided not to question fate and just resigned himself to just accept whatever cards were dealt.  
  
“ _Must_ you?” Sarah asked, as he knotted off his laces. Her cheeks were flushed from their latest romp not even half an hour past, her heart-shaped lips tilted ever so downward in a frown.  
  
God, how he wanted to kiss her once, twice, a million more. Her taste was still on his lips and the memory of her touch seemed seared into his skin, but he had already made promises for that night, and it was not like him to disappoint his nephews and niece, even if it was for the most beautiful girl in the world.  
  
“What needs must. I promised the children a movie night,” he sighed. Nearly the entire day had been spent in a languid haze of alternating between making love and napping in each other’s arms, moving from the living room when Sarah had voiced her concern over the sofa being desecrated when that was where her brother usually slept in whenever he came over, to the more private confines of Sarah’s bedroom. Loathed as he was to leave, he now forced himself to stand, not trusting himself to stay even five minutes more. It was now 4 PM, and his family would be waiting. “I shall return, you can make sure of it.”  
  
“Promise?”  
  
This time, James did approach to give her a last kiss. “Yes,” he said, cupping a hand over her cheek as soon as their lips parted. “Also, I believe we have mobile phones? Technology is our friend, Sarah.”  
  
“Asshole,” Sarah smirked. She jabbed his shoulder with her finger before laying back down on the nest of covers. Her coverlet was a dark emerald that was bedecked with sprigs of wildflowers, and her lying there made it look as though she was a real-life Botticelli painting. James refrained from taking her picture, but did have a fine time relishing the view. It was after a minute or so of him still staring at the visual in front of him that he had to clear his throat to be able to speak.  
  
“Sorry, love. I really must go. Lock the door behind me? I just want to make sure it’s secure…”  
  
Thankfully, Sarah didn’t try to make it any more difficult, although she did blow out a long-suffering sigh as she put on her kimono to follow him to the door. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see her complacent, however. Last night’s door-slamming was probably still fresh on her mind.  
  
“You’re okay now, right?” she asked, and he knew she was still assessing him. “I’m not sending you home to your sister still with the stomach flu?”  
  
James gave her an assuring nod. “I’m fine now, don’t worry.” He wasn’t lying; his strange ailment had seemingly recovered, and he was now just quite fatigued but also rather satiated. At the moment, he didn’t think there was any better feeling.  
  
“ _You’ll_ be all right, right?” He was hesitant about her being alone in her apartment.  
  
Sarah nodded. “Yes, I believe we’ll be all right here, Mr. Cabot. I don’t think the door-slamming poltergeist will be back for a second trip.”  
  
He laughed then kissed Sarah again, then another. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”  
  
“If you don’t, I’m stalking you on Facebook.”  
  
“What makes you think I even have one?”  
  
“I saw the app on your phone while we were exchanging numbers,” Sarah smiled slyly.  
  
James wasn’t even going to affirm the existence of it with a response. He held Sarah’s face in his hands as though to memorize every curve and angle. “Goodbye, dear one.”  
  
One last kiss, and then James pushed himself off of the doorway to propel himself towards the stairs. Sarah watched him go, him fighting to keep his eyes straight and not take one last look, as though he was Orpheus and her Eurydice, and she could only be promised to him if he kept his pact to the gods. He only allowed himself to do so once he heard the _snick_ of the lock the moment he disappeared from view, stopping to glance up at the level above him, heart beating twice as fast, his thoughts a swirl of her eyes, her scent, her gilded softness. His very heartbeat seemed to state her name: _Sarah. Sarah. Sarah.  
  
_ He was still quite dazed from the experience when he arrived at his sister’s home an hour later. Paula opened the door for him, and judging from the expression on her face, knew exactly why he was only appearing just now. Wisely, she opted to stay silent on the matter.  
  
“Oh, here he is then. Hold on, Mummy and Daddy.” Olivia’s voice floated from the dining area. James saw her at the table with her laptop for what he assumed was the weekly Skype call with their parents. She turned to him as he approached, raising an eyebrow at his appearance.  
  
“Good first date then?” she whispered, grinning. James hoped that if she had their parents on speaker that she’d muted the microphone.  
  
“Shut up, Libs.” He rubbed his face with his hand, already feeling his adrenaline wane. He gestured at the laptop as though to ask: _Now, really?_ He wanted a shower, a nap, and a coffee, preferably in that order.  
  
“They’ve been waiting to speak with you for the past week, Jamie,” Olivia said, moving her head so she was out of the view of her laptop screen. “Come on, it won’t take long. Just say hi and such so they know their only son hasn’t become a hermit somewhere.”  
  
“What am I, ten?” James grumbled, although he had already started running a hand through his hair and pulling on the ends of his sweater. It wouldn’t do to greet his parents looking like he’d just rolled out of bed.  
  
Uncaring of his current appearance, Olivia got a hold of his wrist and tugged him closer to the laptop. The way his parents’ faces lit up when he was finally seen on camera was evident, and their affection seemed to gush out through the screen. They were in the sun room at their home in London: his father, lanky and pale in the way the English all are, peering at him from behind black, square-framed glasses, and his mother, her wispy blonde hair tied in a messy updo, blowing a kiss at him and Olivia both.  
  
“Jamie, hello, darling,” his father said. “Glad to see you at last. Your sister said you’ve been busy the past few weeks.”  
  
“Quite,” James neglected to look at Olivia, wondering what she’d told them while he had been in hiding due to the bruising on his face. “Sorry, Dad.”  
  
“You look _terrible,_ ” his mother tutted. “Good heavens, aren’t either of you sleeping well at all?”  
  
“Either of us?” James questioned, stealing a glance at his sister, who sat opposite from him. Now that she had mentioned it, James did notice that Olivia’s expression was tinged with exhaustion, although she was usually able to hide it rather well. Evidently, this had already been a topic of contention before as his sister had frowned when their mother’s comment came through the speakers. She waved at him when she caught him looking.  
  
"We’re fine, Mum,” Olivia called out. “Anyway I have three children. I don’t know what James’ excuse is.”  
  
She smirked, and James rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to explain anything to do with Sarah at the moment and thankfully, their parents ignored the jab, launching instead into an update on the state of their father’s garden (“dismal; the frost has killed all my begonias”), and their mother’s book (“going wonderfully, I should send you both copies of the draft”). Both had also apparently discovered emoticons and were recounting how they were sending each other messages in code.  
  
James listened to his parents’ banter with a patient ear. Even though he was guilty of going off the grid for weeks at a time, he always attempted to keep up his parents’ long-ingrained habit of speaking to them for at least once a week whenever they were apart (which was, admittedly, most of the time, due to their father being part of the Diplomatic Service). Although other children and their parents thought the arrangement either sad or suffocating, he and Olivia had cherished it, and it had kept their small family unit quite close. As adults, he didn’t think either of them had changed much on how they viewed it, although the transition from audio calls to video calls was something they _all_ had to adjust to; he himself still didn’t know whether or not he should be grateful or annoyed that both their mother and father could easily adapt to technology.  
  
He thought about Sarah and how she would probably be adored by his parents. They both loved art and books and Sarah had such a delicious wit about her that even Olivia would appreciate. He was sure Peter would be entertained by her as well. He didn’t even need to get started on the kids…  
  
“…Ground control to James, come in please,” his father’s voice cut through his thoughts and James blinked. From the screen, his father smiled. “There you are. Hello. Welcome back, love. Distracted, are we?”  
  
“You could say that…” James felt himself blush.  
  
“What have you been up to, ducky?” His mother asked. “Have you been relaxing while you’re there?”  
  
“ _Too_ relaxed,” Olivia interjected. She was playing Candy Crush on her iPad away from the screen. “Honestly I should charge for his stay in babysitting fees.”  
  
“Hey, I’m doing Movie Night tonight, aren’t I?” James reminded her, although quick to ignore the recall of what he had to give up just to make it. He glanced towards the stairs, suddenly suspicious of the too-quiet house. “Say, where are the little monsters?” Normally he’d have a child or two begging to clamber on to his lap the minute he walked through the front door.  
  
“I had Peter get some shopping done and he took the kids so they could play at the park for a bit. Should be back here any minute.”  
  
“Well, don’t stay up too late, either of you,” their father said. “You both look exhausted.”  
  
“Oh, William, really,” their mother admonished gently. “They’re not children.”  
  
“They’re _my_ children,” their father stated, feigning stubbornness. “I missed a terrible lot of it when they were growing up anyway so I shall have my time now for as much as I’d like.” James rolled his eyes good-naturedly when he was on the other end of a wink.  
  
“Jamie, darling, how long are you on holiday for? Are you going anywhere this year? You said you wanted to try Maldives, didn’t you?”  
  
“Not this time, Mum,” His mother was resting her chin on her hand as she waited to hear him speak. He realized belatedly that he was also copying her pose and he straightened. He brushed his knees with his palms. “Maybe sometime later in the year. I might have…met someone.”  
  
At this, both his parents perked up, and Olivia even lowered her iPad, obviously intrigued.  
  
“Oh that’s _excellent_ news, dear one,” his father’s grin was so wide it could have split his face in two. “How lovely!”  
  
“Is it serious then?” his mother asked more soberly, although her smile was difficult to conceal. Her eyes, a clear blue like his own, twinkled with mirth. It was a fair question; he had gone through his fair share of girlfriends, and only one had gone past the two-year mark. His family had been quite fond of Addy, as had he, but it had been a mutual decision to split after a solid five years. The relationship had reached the point of complacency and routine, which neither of them had wanted. He still spoke to her, however, and they still regularly sent each other rude Christmas and birthday cards.  
  
“It might be? It’s still early days,” James ducked his head, slightly embarrassed. It always was, whenever his love life came up. He could kick himself for even mentioning Sarah. _Bloody idiot._ He hadn’t been able to help himself.  
  
“Ohhh, he’s shy. That’s too adorable!” Olivia gushed in the same way she did whenever any of the children did something remotely cute. James heard the snap of her camera phone and glared at her. “She should definitely come over, Jamie.”  
  
“Yes, well…we’ll get to that,” James said, although secretly pleased that Olivia was so welcoming about the idea. That, or she was just being nosy. “I have to still work on it a bit.”  
  
“That’s wonderful, ducky. I do hope we can meet her. Shall we do an earlier visit, Wills?” Their parents always visited in mid-spring.  
  
“Of course,” their father rubbed his hands, “just say the word, and we’ll hop on a plane and do a quick jaunt. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”  
  
“ _I’ll_ be the judge of that,” Olivia said, turning to James. “Have her come to dinner this weekend. Sunday?”  
  
“Er…” he said, hesitant. He hadn’t considered it going _that_ far that fast. His sister could be a piece of work, but hopefully having Peter and the kids around would help tame her a bit. He was about to say something along the lines of still discussing it with Sarah when the sound of the front door being opened suddenly brought forth a cacophony of squeals, shouts, and the pitter-pattering of small, booted feet.  
  
“Uncle James!” Kit shouted, whizzing past the foyer without removing his coat and slamming against James’ side. Not far behind him was Thomas. Charlotte was still in Peter’s arms, babbling about numbers, as his brother-in-law carried a bag of groceries in his free hand. Peter gave him a wave, looking relieved at the presence of other adults.  
  
“Unc’a James, me me me me.” Thomas, rosy-cheeked from the cold, started scrabbling for his lap and James heaved him up, immensely grateful for the wonderfully-timed distraction.  
  
“Hello, dear ones,” He gave both his nephews a kiss on the forehead then had them face the screen. “Say hi to Nana and Popop.”  
  
He didn’t really have to prod as, almost instantly, Kit started a conversation with his grandparents, something about Charlie’s poopy diaper and a fantastic rock they had found at the park. The topic was diverted from Sarah for the time being, and James breathed an inward sigh of relief. He really didn’t want to be put in the situation where he had to force her into anything she really didn’t…  
  
“Jamie. Sunday then, alright?” Olivia called out from behind him, loud enough for the laptop’s mic to pick it up, and for his parents and even his nephews to react. “Be sure to tell Sarah now.”  
  
The immediate response was hilariously simultaneous.  
  
“Sunday? Mummy, is it a show?” Kit asked, looking bewildered.  
  
“Sarah, huh? Something special going on?” Peter raised an eyebrow at him from across the room, still with an armful of cranky baby.  
  
“Oh _Sarah,_ is that her name?” his father looked as though he was already naming grandchildren. “That’s a _lovely_ name…”  
  
“Oh, _do_ keep us updated on that, dear,” came his mother’s voice on speaker. “Better yet, we could call during that time…”  
  
Thomas was incessantly tugging on his sleeve and when James looked down, he looked ecstatic. “Unc’a James, Sarah’s coming to visit us? Here? Today?” he asked, looking so hopeful that James had to wonder whether or not Sarah had slipped something in his drink when he hadn’t been looking.  
  
Bloody hell, he was going to kill his sister.

* * *

  
  
She was on a dais, high above a glittering city. She was alone with the King.  
  
 _In return for this, I require a promise from you.  
  
_ She hesitated, and when she spoke, her voice shook.  
  
 _…Anything, your Majesty.  
  
_ _This promise you shall keep forever, do you understand? Nothing shall break it. Nothing can change it.  
  
_ The King loomed above her, tall and majestic, in billowing midnight robes that moved as though they were made of water.  
  
 _I understand,_ she said, her heart beating faster than it had ever beat before. The King’s face seemed made of smooth dark stone and roiling thunder. He was beautiful yet utterly terrifying.  
  
 _He must be given back when it is time. He is not yours to keep.  
  
_ She held her head high, jutting out her chin. Her father had always told her to speak surely but politely when conversing with a grown-up.  
  
 _I understand.  
  
_ Her quick answer seemed to irk him, and quickly, her fear returned.  
  
 _Do you, child?_ His lips curled back into what looked like a sneer, his teeth sharp and glinting like a wild beast’s. He leaned forward and she could see his eyes – so pale they were nearly colorless, silver as the moon and as fleeting as starlight – stark upon his face.  
  
 _Do you really?_

 

* * *

 

James woke up in the middle of the night amidst a tangle of his nephews’ sprawled arms and legs, clawing through sleep the same way a drowning man would attempt to break the water’s surface.  
  
He was in the basement with the boys, on a ridiculously large air mattress Peter had procured from some camping store and had never used. He remembered it was Movie Night, and they had watched Pirates of the Caribbean, then had roughhoused a bit until the boys had been exhausted enough to drop. His muscles were sore from the dozen or so swordfights Kit and Thomas had launched at him, and he was certain he had been hit several times while asleep. Although Movie Nights were fun, it was never the most comfortable arrangement to be had.  
  
James sat up, rubbing his chest where one of the boys had kicked it accidentally at one point, blinking in the semi-darkness. He felt both warm from being covered by a dearth of Star Wars and Avengers duvets, and cold from an unknown draft. He was also slightly nauseous again, although it wasn’t as bad as it had been when he had been at Sarah’s.  
  
Maybe it was just the hour. Or the exhaustion. _Or whoever the fuck knows,_ he thought in annoyance. He considered just sleeping on the sofa for the remainder of the night.  
  
He saw as a shadow suddenly shifted in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head, his instincts on high alert. Before he could react however, one of the pin lights bloomed on, lending just enough light for him to see who was skulking around.  
  
“James?” Olivia appeared at the foot of the stairs. She was in a dressing-gown, which made her look smaller than usual. She also looked quite…scared?  
  
“Libs?” James called out, making sure to keep his voice hushed. Thomas could sleep through a natural disaster, but Kit could not. “What the hell?”  
  
He became vaguely aware of how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; last night’s events had made him skittish and jumpy. Olivia approached, arms crossed tight against her chest, her face nearly as pale as her hair.  
  
“I had to see…” she said, and James noted with slight alarm the fact that she looked far more upset than he thought.  
  
“What’s the matter?” He took another look at the boys: Kit with his arms spread out as though he was trying to do the backstroke on dry land, and Thomas on his side, hugging a stuffed Buzz Lightyear that was nearly the same size he was. They were all right. Had something happened? “Are you all right?”  
  
He got to his feet, careful not to disturb the mattress too much, and approached his sister warily. Olivia had a haunted look about her, and for the first time James wondered if she was all right in the head.  
  
“Mum and Dad said you haven’t been sleeping well,” James kept his voice low to put her at ease. “Libs, are you all right? What’s going on?”  
  
He held her in place and studied her from where he stood, determined to find out whether or not she was under the influence. The way his sister reacted to his touch and his scrutiny with her usual, quick reflexes told him she wasn’t, but something was still off.  
  
“I just…I had a dream. Or have been having…dreams.” Olivia’s eyes seemed sharper, more focused. “It’s just so weird.” James noticed her hands were shaking, and she quickly curled them into fists.  
  
He realized he’d never actually seen his sister distraught. Olivia had always been the epitome of composure and self-assurance, and was usually the level-headed one between the two of them. She had protected, defended, chastised, and advised him on numerous occasions, and he had always (secretly) looked up to her. Seeing how upset she was now unnerved and frightened him.  
  
“Dreams?” James echoed.  
  
“Yeah. On-and-off. And then they started being more vivid and…strange.” Olivia made a gesture with her hands that implied _Just…stuff_ , something he recognized she had copied from Peter.  
  
“Libby, are you and Peter…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud. His sister understood anyway and gave him an irritated look.  
  
“ _No,_ James, this has nothing to do with Peter. He’s upstairs now passed out, unknowing of this all. I’ve been having these dreams since I was little. They just seem…stronger now. I’m not…I don’t even know what I mean.”  
  
“Well what are they about?” He still had no idea how any of this had anything to do with her slinking around in the shadows and scaring him half to death. He didn’t believe in the mumbo-jumbo of dreams and signs and other supernatural things, but decided to humor her. “Is there, I don’t know, a recurring _theme_ or something?”  
  
“A King…and a promise,” Olivia shook her head, frustrated. “ _I_ don’t even know what it means. I woke up and I knew I had to check. I had to make sure you were still there, and you were safe.”  
  
“Check whom? The boys? Of course they’re safe, Libby, why would—”  
  
“Not _them,_ you idiot. The King isn’t after them.” Olivia interrupted, her voice tight. James’ breath hitched in his throat as a cold feeling washed over him, his vision tunneling and focusing only on the raw fear that was currently being worn plain on his sister’s face.  
  
“The King is after _you._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The paths had shifted. The next day was uncertain. Oberon stood on the great balcony overlooking the Kingdom, a looming shadow over the glittering view, his large ebony hand gripping the cold marble railing.  
  
It wasn’t evident in this part of the Kingdom yet, but he could feel it, the tendrils of destruction circling in on the Underground. Its source was in the Far West where the Goblin Kingdom was. Had been. He didn’t even know anymore.  
  
He tried to conjure a crystal, Jareth’s specialty, but the magic sputtered and failed in his palm. His fist clenched, knuckles angled and hard as whelks sticking up stark. Oberon did not want to think of what the implications of the failing of his son’s magic was. The entire situation they were in was already a defiance of natural order, and the High King wasn’t keen on adding more to their record unless absolutely necessary.  
  
He tried it again, twisting his wrist and funneling Jareth’s shared energies through to his fingers. A crystal, round and smooth as a bubble, appeared on the tips, but it showed no vision that could be useful. Frustrated, he crushed it into smoke between his fingers, feeling all of a sudden incredibly tired.  
  
Part of his Kingdom was in shambles from the latest quake. His people were frightened. His Queen would not even leave the Royal Wing. And his son…his _impossible_ son…  
  
 _Sire.  
  
_ _Leave me, Goodfellow.  
  
_ _Sire…  
  
_ _I said_ leave.  
  
 _Sire, the girl…  
  
_ _I said_ LEAVE.  
  
With a thunderous clap, Goodfellow was gone, magicked back to his station in the Aboveground. A trail of gray smoke floated up from Oberon’s fingertips before dissipating in the cold, still air.

 

 

 

* * *

 

James found himself on Saturday morning back in Brooklyn. It was already 10 AM but the chill in the air still had teeth. It was all right; it sobered him up. His head was still spinning from last night’s conversation with his sister and he felt he needed grounding. Sarah was the first person who came to mind.  
  
 _  
“Libby, for fuck’s sake, what are you talking about?” They had moved upstairs to the kitchen so they could speak more freely. “Are you high? What the bloody hell?”  
  
_ _“Shut UP, James, I can’t even understand it myself,” Olivia said, equally incensed, if not more so. She was fully awake now, and as distraught as he was by the whole affair. “It’s not like I can control what I’m dreaming.”  
  
_ _“Then what did you mean?”  
  
_ _“I don’t know!”  
  
_ _They stared each other down from opposite ends of the counter. James felt lost and helpless. Normally he would have just shrugged it off as something batty his sister had conjured, but Olivia had never made anything as extravagant up before.  
  
_ _“Tell me about it then.”  
  
_ _“What?”  
  
_ _“This…dream. And its king. Does he have a name?”  
  
_ _“I’m not lying, James.” Olivia narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not telling you anything if you’ll just be making a game of it.”  
  
_ _“I’m NOT, but I just need to make sure you’re not off your rocker.”  
  
_ _"Look. I’m not on any medication. My marriage, as you can see, is as steadfast as ever. I’ve never taken drugs or anything of the sort so don’t start acting like this is some_ condition _.”  
  
_ _“Okay,” he held a palm up, a cease-fire gesture. He detested arguing with his sister; it always made him feel guilt-ridden and awful for no inexplicable reason. “Okay.”  
  
_ _“I’m just tired, that’s probably it.” Olivia’s shoulders slumped, a sure sign that she was already waving the white flag. “I’ve been having these dreams on-and-off, and then the one I just had…I just woke up so scared and I knew I had to check on you…”  
  
_ _He hugged his sister then, if only to provide a sense of comfort. She had ceased to be taller than him the moment he had hit his early teens, and was so much smaller than he was now that it was hard to imagine he was the younger sibling.  
  
"_ _I’m okay,” he assured her, hoping it was enough. “Don’t worry so much.”  
  
_ _“Easy for you to say,” he heard her speak, her voice muffled against his chest. “Sorry if I scared you.”  
  
_ _“Don’t do that again. I would have bloody bludgeoned you if you hadn’t turned on those lights.”  
  
  
_ They had gone back to bed shortly after that, after they had both sufficiently calmed down. James had gone back to the basement where the boys were and had slept fitfully on the sofa. The boys woke him up hours later, demanding for pirate treasure and maps. At breakfast, Olivia seemed her usual immaculate self, and no one mentioned anything remotely connected to their early morning rendezvous. Peter however had wanted to know more about Sarah before the dinner tomorrow. Apparently _that_ was still on. James had excused himself quickly after.  
  
Walking down Crown Street, the sky was a thin pasty blue, and it suited his mood perfectly. He wished he had a cigarette to distract him but it had been 15 years since he had last smoked one. He hated them anyway, and he didn’t want to show up at Sarah’s smelling of smoke. Saturday was Shabbat and the door to the entryway of her apartment building was open. He raced up the four flights without stopping for breath, the sudden adrenaline flooding his system making him feel just a little bit better. Sarah opened the door after five knocks, dressed in a loose cobalt blue sweater and skinny jeans. She looked surprised yet pleased to see him.  
  
“Wow,” she said, leaning against the doorframe. Her eyes traveled down from his head to his feet then back up. “If by ‘calling me in the morning’ you mean ‘showing up at my doorstep’ then I’ll always be down for that.”  
  
“You don’t mind?” James asked, feeling slightly foolish. He _should_ have called, blast it. Sarah, however didn’t seem to object. Quick as a flash she pressed her lips against his before gently working her tongue in, cutting off anything more he might have said. She tasted of coffee, peanut butter, and _Sarah._ James’ heart was feather-light and singing as she pulled him into the apartment in mid-kiss and shut the door behind him.  
  
They went straight to the bedroom this time, making love slowly and meticulously, mapping each other’s bodies out and learning one another in the most intimate way possible. James started noticing things he hadn’t seen the first few times they had done this, such as the dusting of freckles on Sarah’s shoulders and that she had stretch marks on the insides of her thighs, white and veined like bolts of lightning. She had scars in odd nooks and crannies, as though she had spent her childhood fighting for scraps, but had skin so soft it he couldn’t stop touching and kissing it. She was beautiful, light and dark, and James worshiped her, felt his love for her ravish him whole.  
  
 _Love, old boy?_ A small voice in his head said. _Is it really?  
  
_ _Yes,_ he rationalized. He loved her. He couldn’t explain it, but he did. Not in the way that he had thought he’d loved Addy. His love for Sarah ran deeper, as though her spirit was somehow fused to his, and he knew that he would rather die than endure losing her. He was the kindling to her flame, and he would rather see himself finished than diminish her light. 

 

* * *

 

Early afternoon found them still in Sarah’s bed, drowsy and sated and lying in each other’s embrace. Sarah was dozing beside him, using his arm for a pillow.  
  
“Sshhh,” Sarah said suddenly, piercing the hazy silence.  
  
“What?” James asked. He had been staring at a section of the wall where a small portion of the mulberry-colored paint had chipped off, trying to direct his restless energies towards something else. He wanted to relax but couldn’t, his thoughts like static that couldn’t seem to be turned off.  
  
“I can hear you thinking,” Sarah burrowed into his side before turning her head to look up at him, a curious expression on her face. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
“I wasn’t.”  
  
“Hmph,” Sarah made a small all-knowing noise that told him she didn’t believe him. “Something’s bothering you though.”  
  
James had to shake his head. Bloody women’s intuition. Even he as a man who firmly believed in logic and science couldn’t possibly explain how women always seemed to just _know.  
  
_ “I’m right, aren’t I?”  
  
"Poor night's sleep, that's all." He declined to give any further details. Sarah didn't seem satisfied.  
  
"That seems just the tip of the iceberg."  
  
He tried to brush it off with humor as he often did. “Sarah, this is a married couple’s argument. Why are we having a married couple’s argument?”   
  
Sarah traced her a finger around one of his nipples, humming contentedly against his skin.  
  
“Well, I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “Not really.”  
  
Her answer startled him, and he sat up a bit to get a better view of her face. She stared back at him with wide, innocent eyes, her expression as though she was incapable of uttering a single lie. “Surely you don’t mean that?”  
  
“Mmh, I kind of do, honestly. I’m still a bit weirded out by how fast this is going but…it _feels_ right, you know?” she looked a bit baffled, but plowed on. “I don’t know. I don’t really have a benchmark for these things.”  
  
“Neither do I,” he said, and was gladdened when she looked a tiny bit pleased.  
  
“You’ve not had…” Sarah paused, knowing these were dangerous waters they were treading, “…a long-term relationship before?”  
  
James didn’t see any need to hide the truth from her. “Once,” he confessed. “Five years. We had an amicable break-up, mainly because we realized we were two very different people who wanted different things. I loved her, but it felt different, somehow…” Now that he thought about it his relationship with Addy had seemed like a trial run in which he had emerged more wary yet refined. She had been whip-smart with a biting humor similar to his own, but love with her had seemed brittle and fleeting, as though he was a man who had fallen in love with winter, a season that could not stay.  
  
Sarah, however, was not a season. Sarah was space and time, the beauty, chaos, and consistency of it. _I would move the stars for no one else…  
  
_ “…There were also a lot of short-term things before that, but I could hardly call those exemplary examples of how a relationship should be,” he finished, certain that she didn’t need to know the finer details. He wondered if he should throw back the question at her, then decided to take the risk. They might as well talk about it anyway. “How about you? Any previous beaus I should be warned about?”  
  
“Not really…my last boyfriend had been a computer programmer. Hardly threatening…” she trailed off, looking distracted, and he knew there was more to the answer.  
  
“Anyone else?”  
  
“No…”  
  
It was a definite lie. James knew enough about reading people to know when they were trying to dupe him, and it always set him on edge.  
  
“How come I don’t believe you, love?” he said, feeling slightly irked that she had to hide the information from him. To his surprise, Sarah shot him a look that was equally annoyed.  
  
“Jareth doesn’t count,” she said, it seemed, by accident. The moment the words left her lips, James could tell she already immediately regretted it.  
  
“Who _is_ this Jareth fellow you keep mentioning?” he asked, more than a little irritated now. He remembered how the name kept popping up. Was Sarah still in love with him? Was he making the colossal mistake of falling in love with someone who was already in love with someone else? His face felt hot and flushed as slow-boiling anger rose in his chest. “Are you still seeing him?”  
  
“No!” She sat up to face him, her eyes flickering dangerously. Sarah’s anger seemed to match his, although he had no idea what _she_ had to be furious about. “Don’t accuse me of things you don’t even know of, James Cabot.”  
  
“Well if you could explain ever so kindly then I may get an idea.” He was aware of how vicious his sarcasm could get when his temper was riled up but did nothing to rein it in. Sarah, meanwhile, didn’t show signs of backing down either.  
  
“Get over yourself, James. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, least of all you,” she said, brow furrowed in anger. Her words were laced with the same venom he recognized from their early days. Those words dropped from the same lips that he had been sucking and nipping at with his teeth not even an hour before.  
  
“So you still love him,” James said, flabbergasted and also immensely hurt. The signs were clear and he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle the truth once Sarah said it. “Just admit it, Sarah.”  
  
“I…” Her expression very quickly changed to something that echoed of melancholy, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “He’s _gone,_ James. He’s gone and he’s never coming back. The last time I saw him I was fifteen. I’ve not seen him since. I…I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”  
  
James was immediately sorry that he’d driven her to such a state. He had made plenty of women cry before, but none of those instances had hurt him as much as it did now. Sarah had neglected to answer his question, about still loving the mysterious Jareth, and he didn’t know if part of the misery he felt actually stemmed from his own jealousy.  
  
“What’s his surname, this Mystery Man of yours?”  
  
Sarah answered with some hesitation. “…King,” she said, and James nearly rolled his eyes. _What’s the bloody deal with Kings nowadays? Is it a new universal buzzword?  
  
_ He felt his chest tighten as he said his next statement, recalling when it was that he had heard Sarah speak of the name before: “When you first saw me…you thought I was someone else. And then that night at the restaurant, you _did_ actually call me Jareth.” _Better out than in.  
  
_ “You may share _some_ features,” Sarah said, then raised her head once more to meet his eyes. “But you’re very different from him, James. _Worlds_ different.”  
  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it honestly doesn’t.” He felt like acting like a petulant child. The one and true time that he really did love someone enough, he was getting screwed over. The _one_ time. It wasn’t _fair_.  
  
Sarah threw up her hands in defeat. “I don’t know what else you want me to say. Jareth is gone and is not coming back. I love _you,_ James.”  
  
He felt wretched and hollow. Each time Sarah said Jareth’s name it felt like a nail being driven into his skull. He absolutely _hated_ hearing it. Without a word, he started gathering his things and putting on his clothes.  
  
“Where…where are you going?” Sarah asked, astonished. He didn’t turn to face her.  
  
“Out. Away. Just not here.” He furiously shoved his feet into his boots. So much for Olivia’s blasted Sunday dinner plans. Fucking _jinxed_ it.  
  
“James…” she started, but he raised his hand to silence her.  
  
“Don’t, please.” Already he regretted opening that Pandora’s Box, but would it have been better if he had _not_ known? The woman he loved was in love with someone else. It was so _banal_ that his infuriation about the whole situation seemed to multiply threefold. He had gone to Sarah's place to clear his head and make him forget the strange event with Olivia. Well.  _Mission accomplished, old chap._  
  
He got up, and stalked towards the hallway, ignoring Sarah calling his name. A headache had formed and seemed to be pulsing in his brain each step he took. The entire weekend was turning into a fucking bloody mess. Was Mercury in bloody retrograde?  
  
“James!” he heard Sarah call before he raced out the front door. He closed it behind him as he ran.   
  
"James!" she called out a second time, and he knew she was standing at her open doorway. Her voice reverberated through the empty halls. James was almost at the doors.  She didn’t follow him. Wise choice.   
  
He exited the building, breathed in the cold, dry air of the late winter's afternoon. He felt ill, overwhelmed, and irrationally angry. Some holiday it had been so far. Not even a month into his vacation and already he felt as though Sarah was had given him enough grief for several lifetimes. What was it about her that drew him to her so strongly? She was relatively ordinary...   
  
 _You of all people should know that she isn't...Precious Sarah. Champion of the Labyrinth._  
  
The unbidden thought startled him. His voice, but not his words. It had somehow felt as though someone had hijacked his brain for a split second and had put words in. _Labyrinth? What?_  
  
He needed to get fucking drunk, fucking _fast_.  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to stop working on this story. It bugs me day and night like a restless ghost. 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who's read and has given Kudos and has commented! I truly treasure them. :) I'm sorry for this mess; I'm still hoping this thing will tidy itself up. -_- Anyway, if you can, tell me your thoughts! I know both James and Sarah are pieces of work. They try, they really do.


	12. Chapter 12

_Oh God. What had she done?  
  
_ When James had stormed out of the apartment Sarah had been torn between gladly shoving him out the door, and getting down on her knees to beg him to stay. How quickly their fledgling happiness had unraveled, and it had only taken one word. One _name._ She was equally enraged and in despair.  
  
“Goddammit!” she screamed in frustration, slamming her fist on her closed front door. James had gone, and she didn’t know if he would ever be back. Her apartment, claustrophobic now in its sudden silence, made her feel like a caged animal. _Why_ had that question even come up? _Why_ did she have to say Jareth’s name? _Why_ did she feel so goddamn confused?  
  
She slid down to the floor, holding her head in her hands. The wood felt frozen against her exposed skin; in her haste to catch James at some point in his departure she had only managed to pull on her sweater, and it hung on her like a too-short blanket. She curled her knees up against her chest, feeling like a coil so tightly wound that one touch would make her come undone. Thoughts rushed through her head at lightning speed. She was angry at James, and yet could hardly blame him. Remembering his cold, quiet rage made her feel sick; she would have preferred if they had just yelled at each other.  
  
_The least he could have done was let me explain, the bastard,_ she thought bitterly, wiping away the tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes.  
  
_And say what?_ A smaller, quieter voice in her head countered. Her rational side. 14 years as an only child had started and developed that built-in check-and-balance system, although she often tuned it out. _Would you tell him the truth about the Jareth? The Labyrinth? The Underground?  
  
_ “FUCK.” Sarah groaned, if only to silence the voices in her head, and they were, for the time being. Her face was hot and wet, and she wiped it with the sleeve of her sweater. She was convinced that her ribs were probably cracking, because surely a broken heart didn’t hurt _this_ much.  
  
She knew now, of course; the almost-unbearable pain in the center of her chest was as sure a confirmation as any. Despite her initial reservations about this strange face-twin of the Goblin King, she ached painfully for pure want of him, as if his absence had created a black hole inside of her that consumed all her remaining joy.  
  
If James had stayed, if he had only _asked,_ she would have recited just how different he and Jareth were. James, with his gentleman manner, his quiet viciousness, and his vulnerable happiness was something Jareth could only ever dream to be. The Goblin King had been nothing more than an idea, an impossible goal. It was this mortal man that she could choose to love, with all his faults and graces, and she didn’t want to lose him.  
  
( _But do you love him as James, or because he’s merely a mortal copy of Jareth? Would you love him with a different face…?_ The gentle voice persisted, but Sarah very quickly and efficiently pushed the thoughts into the depths of her subconscious, silencing them as soon as they emerged.)

 

* * *

 

 

 

He moved as shadow, light, sound. Winter had made the days short and the nights long; dusk had occurred not even an hour past and already it was as if all the Above had been cloaked by Oberon’s dark wing. No matter. His sight was still sharp, and his sense of smell still keen. He could sense the Young Master as easily as he could spot an owl amongst starlings which, in more ways than one, the Young Master was.  
  
His search led him past the great river, and entailed him passing one of the iron bridges. He hated to do so; they burned his feet if he didn’t move quickly enough. Fortunately, he was able to shift through the shadows and he was across in seconds. The Young Master was somewhere in this large dwelling place beyond the river. He was not in immediate danger but something was _wrong_ and Goodfellow was determined to find it.  
  
It didn’t take long. The Young Master’s scent was quite intense; it always was whenever he felt strongly about something. Part of the way, Goodfellow could taste confusion and fear, which slowly changed to love and euphoria, then, quite suddenly, anger and bewilderment. It led him through lamp-lit streets, past apartments, bodegas, a large ornate museum, gardens, and then finally, a small saloon between a jewelry shop and a sushi place. The Young Master was inside, sitting at the sticky bar with his head in his hands, misery enveloping him like a stench.  
  
Goodfellow backed into the shadows of the nearby alleyway and altered his form, changing it to something that would not so readily capture the Young Master’s attention. It worked. His young ward did not even look up when he sat by him, although it could have very well been the fact that he was heavily intoxicated.  
  
“I’ll have whatever he’s having.” He pointed to the number of empty tumblers on the tabletop. “And another one for him. He looks a miserable shite.”  
  
“Piss off,” the Young Master growled. Such a temper. Goodfellow almost rolled his eyes.  
  
“You’re certainly in a lovely mood.” The bartender placed two tumblers of amber-colored liquid in front of them. It looked absolutely vile. Even after years of living amongst them, Goodfellow still had yet to understand what the appeal of alcohol was to humans. He attempted to be jovial, although his motives were anything but innocent. “What’s her name then?”  
  
“Sod off, I’m not telling you again.” The Young Master shot back, sparing him a glance this time. His hair was unkempt and he had the look of a man destroyed. He looked so dismal it was as though he would already give up his soul right then and there. Goodfellow was not having it. _Not if I can help it, little one.  
  
_ The saloon was playing a weepy melody that was loud enough to make his teeth ache. Goodfellow leaned sideways so he could get close enough to whisper. The bartender had his back turned to them so he had to take the opportunity now.  
  
“Give her another chance. Sarah deserves another chance.”  
  
Her name did it. Goodfellow felt himself suddenly being launched off his chair, with the Young Master’s hands on his throat.  
  
“Hey hey hey!” the bartender was shouting, but neither of them gave a damn.  
  
“How do you know her?” the Young Master’s anger was so strong, Goodfellow could taste its bitterness in his mouth. “How the fuck do you know her? Who are you?” And just then, a fog seemed to clear in his eyes, and Goodfellow found himself not looking at the Young Master as he’d known him for the past 30 or so odd years, but one he had known for centuries. “Who…I _know_ you. I _know_ you!”  
  
Quick as a flash, Goodfellow placed two hands on the Young Master’s temple, muttered a quick incantation, and instantly felt his ward fall limp in his arms. He held up his hands as the bartender approached to break up the fight.  
  
“It’s all right. It’s all right. I know him. He’s passed out. I can take him home.” Because he did, and he would, but how in Oberon’s name did the Young Master recognize him? He should not have been able to yet!  
  
_Fuck,_ he said to himself, unable to think of any Fae curse that would suit the occasion. _These are troubling times indeed._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _You are certain he recognized you?  
  
__Yes, Sire, of that I am quite assured.  
  
__But I had had a glimpse of it, his path, not even two moons past…  
  
__I’m certain the girl has something to do with it, Sire.  
  
_ The room was suddenly bathed in a soft glow. The absence of the shining golden thread that had been marked as the High Prince’s was evident.  
  
_The paths are in constant flux._ A crash. Several trays went flying. _This is madness!  
  
__Your Majesty…with all due respect…  
  
__Goodfellow, I ask from you your utter trust and obedience.  
  
__Of course, Sire.  
  
__Fix this. I fear my family will no longer be able to handle the strain. Find the girl, lead him back. I care not how you do it, but resolve it, quickly. This I shall have to impose on you under pain of certain death, should you fail.  
  
_ Silence reigned in the Throne Room.  
  
_As you wish, Your Majesty._

 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the weekend Sarah turned to work in a desperate bid to distract herself. She only allowed herself to phone James twice: once at dinnertime on Saturday, after she had had sufficient time to calm down, and another on Sunday morning. Both times the calls went straight to voicemail, leaving her in a strange state of bereavement and deep seething.  
  
How _dare_ he avoid her calls when she was trying so hard to make it right?  
  
In fact, how _dare_ he turn her world upside-down like this when it was he who had come to _her?_ Why did he even go to her apartment uninvited anyway? _Why_ did she even let him in? She could punch herself.  _Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
  
_ When his silence persisted despite her obvious efforts to reach out, Sarah resolved to possibly never seeing him again, although the thought of it upset her more than she had initially expected. She woke up earlier than usual on Monday morning and took her time getting ready. She was careful to not look too perturbed, laying off the bright red lipstick and sticking instead with the more subdued old rose. She would be damned if she let this personal issue be a cause for potential gossip at the office, especially after her atypical absence last Friday.  
  
The commute felt longer than usual, and she breathed deep as she stepped into her building, gathering her bearings. She held her breath as she walked across the marble floor to the elevator, then held it again during the ride to the 26th level. She could do this. She had weathered worse before. This was a piece of cake.  
  
Of course, she had forgotten to take Lexi into account.  
  
Her assistant’s eyebrows had nearly disappeared into her hairline upon laying eyes on her the moment she stepped in. She had been silent as Sarah passed, handing over Sarah’s usual coffee order with none of her usual flair, but then had quickly followed her into her office, clicking the door shut behind them.  
  
“I mean no disrespect, Sarah, but you look like complete _shit._ ”  
  
Sarah closed her eyes, bracing herself. “Lexi…”  
  
“What _happened_? Was it Fight Club?” Lexi asked, keeping her voice low. She approached the table in the same way one would approach a wounded animal: palms up, cautious steps. _Easy there.  
  
_ “That is _such_ a ridiculous nickname…” Sarah didn’t meet Lexi’s gaze, unsure of whether or not she would be able to keep her composure if she did. She opened her laptop and started the pretense of working. “And anyway…it’s over.”  
  
“ _What?_ No!” This time Lexi sat on one of the chairs that was usually reserved for clients, her dark eyes wide as dinner-plates. Her mouth hung open like a cartoon, then she caught herself. “I mean…just to ask, did anything even get off the ground in the first place?”  
  
Good question. Sarah had felt it had just been getting there, or that it had been an unavoidable fact. The ‘first date’ at Rocco’s had really been nothing more but an elaborate foreplay. But building on what? The few times they had spent antagonizing each other?  
  
“Well…there had been an unofficial start anyway,” said Sarah lamely but refused to expound on the context any further.  
  
“Oh.” Lexi looked deflated. “I thought it was going well, especially with you playing hooky and all…”  
  
“I had thought so too,” Sarah replied, although unable to keep the misery from her voice. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, things were said, and now it’s over.”  
  
“Oh, Sarah…I’m sorry.” Lexi was empathetic, reaching out to hold her hand. Sarah let her, relishing in the human contact she very rarely allowed others to share with her. She was glad Lexi never had any issues transitioning from employee to friend. Given Sarah’s penchant to largely disconnect from social circles, having a single friend who knew what was going on in both her work and home life was a small, secret comfort. “Was he married? Or engaged? Was…was he on the other bus?”  
  
Sarah almost laughed. If only it were _that_ simple.  
  
“None of the above. It’s…ugh, it’s complicated. Partly my fault. Partly his.” She covered her eyes, willing for her tears to not fall. She had a meeting in thirty minutes, goddammit, she couldn’t be falling apart _now._ Her mascara was going to run.  
  
“Okay. Okay, I can see this is just upsetting you. Tell you what, let’s go to lunch later, okay?” Lexi’s tone was gentle, as though she was speaking to a child. “For now, just…” she mimicked deep breaths, “…breathe, and…do you want some chocolate? I have a couple of York patties on my table, just to, y’know, keep your sugar up.”  
  
Sarah gave her assistant a smile. “Yeah sure, let’s do lunch later. Skipping the chocolate though.”  
  
“Right,” Lexi nodded, then smoothly transitioned back into her professional role. “Okay, meeting with Seth in half an hour. Think you can handle it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good. Freshen up that makeup and for God’s sakes, use waterproof mascara, you look like you’re in mourning.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the circumstances, Sarah’s morning went rather well. Designs for a new children’s book were finalized and approved, and she was able to play off her general exhausted demeanor by using the excuse that she had been sick the Friday past, and earned her boss’ sympathy by being granted an extended lunch hour to recuperate. Lexi was only too pleased and, as soon as noon rolled around, dragged her to a tapas bar several blocks over to discuss her short-lived love life.  
  
“Oh, you _didn’t!”_ she said despairingly when Sarah recounted how James managed to get her to mention Jareth. There was a thin crowd at Alba due to the hour. Monday was exceptionally slow and very few people knew that it was actually open for lunch, which suited Sarah fine. “This was the friend you said looked like him, right?”  
  
“Yes, but I haven’t _seen_ him in so long.” Sarah picked at the gambas con ajillo set in front of her. She had had several already and didn’t feel like eating any more. “It’s really not a big deal.”  
  
“But you did love him huh? Don’t lie, I can read you like a book.”  
  
“I don’t—” Sarah began, but gave up as Lexi waved her off.  
  
“Look. That was a colossal mistake even entering that territory. That was a huge fuck-up. James probably likes you _that_ much since he was so affected by it. You’re still hung up on this Jareth guy.”  
  
“That’s the thing…I’m _not_ hung up on him.”  
  
“Oh-ho you can keep telling yourself that, but it shows on your face,” Lexi said, wagging a fork at her. “Who’s this Jareth anyway and what’s so special about him? And ‘Jareth’, really? He sounds like a frat boy, or some privileged elitist ass.”  
  
Sarah nearly laughed at the accuracy of the last statement. “You won’t believe me if I told you.”  
  
“Really? Try me. I just might surprise you.”  
  
She briefly considered lying to Lexi but figured she had nothing to lose. She could just try it and see how a normal person would react to the story. Besides, she could trust Lexi, and the story was just too fantastical for it to be deemed real if her assistant did manage to spill the beans at some point.  
  
She leaned forward in a conspiratorial stance: “Have you ever heard of the Goblin King?”  
  
Lexi frowned at her. “No? Should I have? Is it a movie or something?”  
  
“No, it’s…well, it’s a fairy tale…” She faltered, but only for a second. Then she took a breath and continued. “You see, I once had a book called The Labyrinth…”  
  
She recounted the unabridged version of the tale to her assistant, who was careful to not give any commentary as the story went on. Eventually, Lexi, who had been picking various tapas off of their sampler plates at the beginning, stilled, devoting her full attention to what Sarah was saying. Sarah saw flashes of disbelief in her eyes once or twice but forced herself to continue until the end.  
  
“…And then, it was over, and I was back in my room, and I was there with some of the creatures I’d met from the Labyrinth, but I never saw him again,” she concluded. “I still get these…weird dreams from time to time. I guess those show in some of my work, but I’ve not seen any sign of the Labyrinth out here since, not the friends I’d made there, and especially not Jareth. Until James.”  
  
“And you’re saying he looks _exactly_ like Fight Club?” Lexi asked without missing a beat.  
  
Sarah shook her head. “Not _exactly_ the same. His hair is different, and James is not as pale as Jareth. It’s like looking at a twin, somewhat. The personality…well, they could both use some work, but I can handle James better, I think.” She scrutinized Lexi who proceeded to process the information but remained looking alarmingly nonchalant. “Wait, you _believe_ me?”  
  
Lexi shrugged. “I don’t _not_ believe you. It’s all a bit much to comprehend, but I have a Filipino grandmother and an Irish grandfather. Fairy tales are not that strange in both those cultures, believe me.” She looked thoughtful. “I spent some time in my childhood looking for elves and pixies in the bushes in my parents’ garden. Never saw one, but…I dunno. It’s like being an agnostic. Neutral on the topic until further proof of either result, I guess.”  
  
At that statement, Sarah felt as though she could breathe a little easier. “…I really didn’t expect you to be so…accepting of it,” she admitted, not used to discussing it so openly.  
  
“No sweat,” Lexi said, grinning. “Besides, you’re my boss and I _have_ to trust you.”  
  
Sarah had to admit that probably was also a factor. She smiled. “Well, yeah, you’d _better._ ”  
  
“I can see your dilemma though." Lexi looked sympathetic to her plight. "You _do_ like James, right?”  
  
She gave a nod.  
  
“You like him enough to stick by him then? Forget Jareth and all that business in…the Labyrinth, right?”  
  
_Be normal?_ She doubted she’d ever be, but she desperately wanted the chance.  
  
“If at all possible, yes…”  
  
“NO, no ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ here.” Lexi leaned forward, a determined look on her face. “Sarah, do you _want_ to have something with this guy, marry him, have babies who will be so stinking cute every the Gap store in the country will have their faces?”  
  
She knew the answer, of course. “…Yes.”  
  
“You have to forget Jareth then. If you want any of this to work, you have to let go of that baggage. _And,”_ she held up her hand to cut off Sarah as she opened her mouth, “if you can’t forget him, at least never mention him again. Lie, omit, do what you have to do not hurt your man’s feelings. You pretty much crushed his _balls,_ Sarah.”  
  
“Lexi!”  
  
“Sorry,” Lexi shrugged, although knowing perfectly well that she was right. “But it is what it is, boss. You just have to try again.”

 

* * *

 

She and Lexi didn’t linger any longer in the restaurant, but instead continued the discussion during the walk back to their office. They had deliberately chosen the longer route for this purpose. That, and it was a wonderful day to be out: bright and clear, although still with the pervading chill of winter. Lexi hated it but conceded to Sarah’s wishes, if only in exchange for a sanctioned lunch extension, and the chance to talk to Sarah about things they normally wouldn’t raise within the office.  
  
“So what do you know about him, really?”  
  
“Not a lot.” Sarah made a list of what she _did_ know. “British, posh, has a sister who lives here, is some sort of economist…”  
  
_…hates tea, had one long-term relationship, a loving uncle, a spoiled little brother, absolutely FANTASTIC at sex…  
  
_ “Whoa, Nelly.” Lexi was laughing and Sarah realized she must have said the last part a little too loudly. She blushed but didn’t defend herself. “I mean, _yay_ I’m glad for you, but warn me next time you’re going to make pronouncements like that…”  
  
“SARAH!”  
  
The high, childish voice that had called her name rang clearly in the cold air. Something came running and slammed into Sarah from the side. Sarah, rather startled at this occurrence, immediately looked down to see and saw a pair of bright blue eyes looking up at her through fringes of silky blonde hair. For a minute she thought it was Toby, but she blinked and realized that it was a different child altogether.  
  
“Whoa, hey, kiddo. Sarah, you know him?” Lexi asked, looking quite stunned herself.  
  
“Hello, Sarah! I’ve missed you!” the child said, and Sarah immediately recognized who it was.  
  
“THOMAS!” A woman’s voice, laced with panic, echoed throughout East 77th and Park, urging other passers-by to stop and glance at the scene. Sarah turned to see a woman rushing out of a restaurant. _Siam,_ that Thai restaurant she had eaten at with James. Fucking _great._ Fate was really out to punish her.  
  
“Thomas! Oh thank God!” The woman approached them in quick purposeful strides. She was a pop of color in the austere snow-scrubbed landscape, wearing a button-less coat that was as red as a cardinal’s crest over an otherwise all-black ensemble. She was shorter than Sarah, but much leaner and wiry, like a teenage boy. Her pale blonde hair was tied up in a messy topknot, complementing her cream-colored skin and glacier-blue eyes. There was something about her manner that was familiar to Sarah, but it eluded her at the moment.  
  
“Thomas, darling, what are you _doing?”_ She gently admonished the child still latched on to Sarah before looking up. “I’m _so sorry,_ he just ran out while I was paying. I don’t know what in the world has gotten into him.”  
  
The English accent was a dead giveaway. The second she said ‘darling’, Sarah knew her suspicions were right.  
  
“Mummy!” Thomas declared. “Mummy, look! I found Sarah!”  
  
Sarah didn’t miss the sharp inhale coming from the other woman.  
  
“Oh.” She heard the woman say. “ _Oh.”  
  
_ “Hello, Thomas,” Sarah said, forcing herself to look down and smile at the triumphant-looking child. Thomas was positively beaming. If he wasn’t so cute, Sarah was sure she wouldn’t have been so complacent about a child unrelated to her grasping at her waist so tightly. “It’s nice to see you again.”  
  
She could feel the tension grow, although she was not sure why. James’ sister had almost certainly put the pieces together by now.  
  
“Hey hey, okay, it seems we’re not total strangers after all,” Lexi clapped her hands, getting everyone’s attention. She held a hand out to the woman, who was starting at Sarah with an expression that both reflected amazement and disbelief. “Hello, Alexandra Dempsey, BigBadWolf Publishing. How are you? This is your son?”  
  
The woman seemed shocked out of her stupor at the sound of Lexi’s voice and immediately took her hand to shake. “Oh, hello,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Olivia Cabot-Schwartz.”  
  
She had a voice that could easily slide from being the Queen’s first cousin to a Bond villain. James had the same potential, although Sarah had to admit she didn’t get quite as intimidated by him compared to his sister. She cleared her throat to get her voice box to work. She held up her hand as well and shook Olivia’s.  
  
“I trust your name is Sarah?” she asked, although it wasn’t really a question. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry if Thomas startled you. He’s normally a well-behaved boy.”  
  
“Ah yes. We’ve met.” Sarah offered a smile of her own, although it was quite strained. “A week or so ago.”  
  
Thomas had finally let go of her and stood by her side, still looking pleased as punch. The resemblance to James had been striking the first time she had ever seen him, but it was more pronounced now, with the boy in grey jeans, black overcoat, and black Stan Smiths. She didn’t think James would ever be able to wear a half-ponytail as well as his nephew did, however.  
  
“You have children?” asked Olivia innocently. It was a trick question.  
  
“No. I…well, I went on a date with your brother once or twice.” There really was no use in beating around the bush. “Thomas had been there the first time.”  
  
“Yeah, Mummy, and Unc’a James fell asleep!” Thomas crowed. Sarah felt herself visibly pale at the statement but Olivia didn’t seem to take it too seriously.  
  
“ _Well,_ it is quite surprising to see you, Sarah. You _are_ the one my baby brother has been absolutely lovesick about, yes?”  
  
Her voice had a teasing quality to it. Sarah recognized herself in Olivia. The relationship between older sisters and their younger brothers apparently was the same everywhere.  
  
“Well…” She didn’t really know how to respond. It was quite awkward to admit to your almost-boyfriend’s _sister_ that whatever they had was off.  
  
Olivia kept talking when she didn’t answer right away. “I must say I was quite surprised to see the state he was in when he came home Saturday evening. How our housekeeper managed to wrangle him upstairs I still don’t know. I think he’s still sleeping whatever it is off.” She didn’t seem too worried about James’ state so it comforted Sarah a little.   
  
“We had a little…spat,” Sarah admitted.  
  
“Oh?” Olivia looked a tad crestfallen. “And all before any of us even met you?”  
  
“ _I_ met her, Mummy!” Thomas insisted, tugging up at his mother’s sleeve. It was the most talkative Sarah had seen of him and it amazed her. Olivia leaned over to give Thomas a kiss on his forehead.  
  
“Oh yes, of course you did, darling. I just meant other adults,” she said, to which Thomas looked satisfied. She then looked up at Sarah again, a glint in her eyes. “Well, just because you and James have…taken a break…to put it mildly, I would like to ask if maybe you’d be free this afternoon to just have some coffee and cakes and chat?”  
  
“Chat?”  
  
“Yes…I won’t pretend to _not_ know you. James has told me some things but has been pretty tight-lipped about whatever it is you two have. I’m thinking maybe a little getting-to-know-you between you and I since my stubborn little brother won’t even give an inch.”  
  
“But…” Sarah was confused by the turn of events to say the least. “I don’t even know you, and you don’t know me…?” _And whatever I had with James is probably gone?  
  
_ “Precisely the reason for a chat,” Olivia beamed. “Don’t give up so easily on my brother, he’s usually quite thick when it comes to these situations. But I _know_ him, and this time it seems…well, let’s just say this kind of thing never happened with Addy…” Her tone was almost sisterly, almost as if she were sharing a secret, and Sarah felt herself trusting James’ sister a bit more. “It’ll be _fun._ Just us three…Thomas is a good boy, really. I just promised to take him to the Met Breuer this afternoon, which is why we’re in the area. You can also ask me all the juicy questions.”  
  
“I don’t know…” Sarah was skeptical. She hadn’t expected James’ sister to be so…friendly. Judging from what James used as descriptors – rich, married, had kids – she had imagined her as an untouchable Uptown Mom extraordinaire, the kind they wrote novels about, who had their kids written down for Ivy Leagues at birth. Although she didn’t doubt Olivia had probably done that, the personality Sarah had had in mind was not this amiable woman who currently stood in front of her.  
  
“Isn’t it just a little bit weird though? I’ve just met you. I could be…” she struggled to think of what rich people might find threatening, “I dunno, a conman or a cat thief, or something.”  
  
Olivia looked amused. “Right. No, I don’t think so, but that was a nice try.” She winked at Sarah. “Also, Thomas is only three but he tends to be a good judge of character. He used to abhor his pediatrician without us knowing why and we eventually found out he would pinch the children? Not mine, but the other ones. The fact that he burst out of the restaurant to hug you? If that’s not a testimonial I don’t know _what_ is.”  
  
Lexi, who had been silent the rest for most of the conversation, spoke up: “If it’s today, she’ll actually be free by 5 PM. All the meetings will have cleared out by then.”  
  
Sarah whirled around to give her assistant a frantic glare: _What are you doing?!_ Lexi, however, remained impassive, shrugging at her as if to say, _Well you did say you wanted to try again.  
  
_ “Excellent! That’s perfect.” Olivia clapped her hands and handed out a business card to Lexi, who took it. She was clearly not taking no for an answer. “My number is on there. Let’s meet at 5:30 then? There’s a little place near the Breuer that serves excellent scones and tea, if you fancy it. Alice’s Tea Cup? Coffee is divine as well.”  
  
Thomas had started hopping up and down, excited at the prospect. “Please come, Sarah.”  
  
_Goddammit.  
  
_ “Okay,” Sarah relented, the word sounding so foreign to her she doubted for a split-second that it was she who said it. Alice’s was not far from the office anyway. “Okay.”  
  
A smile burst on Olivia’s face, so big and genuine that even Sarah had to smile a little bit. “Oh, _wonderful._ Okay, we shan’t keep you waiting, you probably have to get back to work.” She held her hand out to Lexi, who shook it. “It was nice meeting you, Alexandra, and you too, Sarah. I look forward to this afternoon.”  
  
And then she walked away, tugging Thomas to her side as he skipped happily by her. Thomas looked back once, smiled and waved, before clasping his mother’s hand just as they turned the corner and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

The remainder of the afternoon remained a blur. Sarah still had to approve some concepts for a new thriller that they predicted would probably be on top of the Bestseller list by the end of spring. It kept her fairly busy for a while, although her upcoming meeting with Olivia turned her into a bundle of nerves every time she remembered it. Was she a masochist? Probably. There was absolutely no fucking reason--  
  
_Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_ 4\. It meant _low-grade emergency_ or _I’m coming in.  
  
_ “Sarah.” Lexi entered her room. “It’s 5PM. Best be getting ready.”  
  
Sarah glowered at her friend and assistant. “Yeah, no thanks to _you._ ”  
  
Lexi didn’t seem unnerved at her reaction. It was part of the reason Sarah liked her so much. It was admittedly hard for her to find people who wouldn’t be intimidated or frightened of her, especially when she was in a mood.  
  
“Hey, you said you were willing to give it another shot, and there was your other shot, so I took it for you. How weird is it to bump into his sister, of all people? You’re not going to get this opportunity again.” The younger woman talked about it as though she had instead made an appointment with the dentist, rather than with a complete stranger who just so happened to be the sister of the guy she wanted to get in bed with. Jesus Christ.  
  
“What are we even going to talk about? Should I ask about his GPA? Most embarrassing childhood memories? Christ, Lexi, isn’t it _weird?_ ”  
  
“Well, she _did_ offer, so she’s probably as curious about you as you are secretly curious about him. And look, the fact that she _is_ curious probably means Fight Club was telling her stuff about you, which means he _liked_ you enough to ask his sister for advice, probably. Trust me, I’ve got brothers. They only seriously talk to me when there’s a death in the family, or if they’re stumped by some girl behavior.”  
  
Sarah pouted. “Toby’s never asked _me._ ”  
  
The eyeroll she received in reply was Lexi reaching her breaking point. “That’s because you’re 14 years older? I mean, jeez, you could be his _mom._ ”  
  
“Shut up,” Sarah said, but it did elicit a smile from her. Lexi grinned and got her coat from the rack, dumping it unceremoniously on the table.  
  
“Shop’s closed for today. Time to get your boy back.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

It had been a complicated, elaborate ruse and electronics had never been his strong suit, but he had done it, and he was proud.  
  
He couldn’t bewitch humans to get them to do what he wanted, but he could twist their existing desires to meet his ends. It had taken him the entirety of a day to make sure all his players were set and ready to play: Olivia, Thomas, Sarah’s secretary, Sarah, and of course, the Young Master. Them, and a few clever tricks with what humans called a mobile phone.  
  
There had been near misses, but it had proven successful, and he watched as Sarah approached the appointed teahouse at the agreed hour. He liked her already; she was punctual.  
  
He watched her be led to a seat near the window, then as she ordered a set of scones and a cup of tea for herself. She also ordered a tiny cake for Thomas. She was thoughtful, he had to give her that. He almost felt sorry that Thomas wasn’t going to be there. Not this time at least. ( _Oh dear, we have to pick up Kit from French tutor. Oh dear, how_ could _I forget. Alexandra, darling, I apologise for the short notice but could you kindly tell Sarah…)_ Maybe next time.  
  
Sarah waited, and he watched as her previous anxiety quickly turned to annoyance. _Patience, dear one...  
  
_ And then _there._ He knew exactly when the moment was about to arrive. He melted into the shadows, securing himself a good vantage point. The small bell on the door jangled, and at once, he could hear two breaths hitch.  
  
“James?” Sarah spoke first. He had already known she would. Her audacity was reckless, but admirable.  
  
“…Sarah.” James replied. Cautious as a coiled snake, and twice as dangerous.   
  
He could do no further. Free will was an annoying caveat humans had that he could never fully corrupt, and the humans would notice if he abandoned his post for too long. Much as he wanted to watch, he couldn't stay. He had to trust somehow that they would find themselves out of this wholly unnecessary mess that they had created. As if their lives weren't complicated enough already.  
  
_Play nice, sweetlings..._  
  
His deed now considered completed, Goodfellow slunk out of the shadows and vanished into the dying sunshine.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally lied; Alice's Tea Cup is nowhere near the Met Breuer, and Alba and Siam don't exist, FYI. Sarah's general office location is by Museum Mile. 
> 
> Also, this chapter was supposed to be written purely from Sarah's POV, but Goodfellow had to come in because some things needed explaining, and Sarah wasn't in the best place to do that. 
> 
> Thank you to all who have dropped Kudos and previous comments! You guys are the greatest!
> 
> Please feel free to leave me any questions that you may have in the Comments section! I do love to get them, especially if you have any theories or whatnot. I'm not big on stating clues but if you ask me a question, I just may allude to one. :)


	13. Chapter 13

There was a hole in his memory where Saturday night used to be.  
  
It was very strange only because it seemed to be quite particular, as if his mind was a tape and someone had gone in and erased several frames. Whenever James tried to recall what had transpired long after he had left Sarah’s apartment in a huff and had attempted to get rip-roaringly drunk, he was confronted with a gray haze. A literal blank. As if his mind was a telly and someone had set it to an unregistered channel.  
  
He remembered the argument he and Sarah had gotten into, the hurt, the anger. He had left. She had not followed.  
  
He remembered that no bars had been open so early in the afternoon, so he had gone round Brooklyn in circles, mostly trapped inside his own head and imprisoned by his own thoughts. He remembered feeling jealousy and rage so great it was as though something was crawling underneath his skin. More than once he’d had to vomit the remains of his breakfast onto frozen grass.  
  
He remembered finally looking up at some point, not knowing how long he had wandered, but dusk was settling, and he had been a block away from a small saloon-like bar called The Station. It had also grown bitterly cold, and his knees had been about to give out from exhaustion. The Station had not been crowded for a Saturday night, and the hot sensual notes of Lorraine Ellison had smacked him hard in the chest just as he walked in. He had sat at the bar. Some whisky and water had followed, then several more.  
  
This was where it started to get hazy.  
  
There had been a man, he was sure of it. There had been a man in there with him, and he had said something, and it was as though something _alive_ in James had stirred…  
  
 _What have you done, child? What have you done? What have you done…?  
  
_ And then nothing.

* * *

 

“James?”  
  
James cracked open an eye from where he was lying in bed and saw his sister standing in the doorway, dressed and ready to go out.  The way her scarlet coat contrasted against the white walls in the hallway somehow made his migraine worse, and he frowned, shutting his eyes again.  
  
“I’m going out with Thomas. Do you want to come?”  
  
 _No_ , he wanted to say. He felt like dying. Not just physically because of the hangover that he was still feeling the effects of, but also because he was still quite fragile after the Sarah debacle. He’d hang first before admitting that to his sister, however.  
  
“Have fun,” he managed to say. Speaking felt like talking through shards of glass. He reached for the glass of water that had been strategically placed on his bedside table, next to a bottle of Tylenol and a plate that held the remains of a grilled cheese sandwich, and took a sip. Since waking, Paula had insisted on force-feeding him and having him finish what seemed to be an endless supply of water. Although initially it had felt like a form of medieval torture, he did have to admit that after twenty-four or so hours of the crude treatment, he no longer felt like his stomach was going to revolt with the slightest movement.  
  
“C’mon, Jamie…it’d do you good. You need a bit of sunshine.” He could hear Olivia shuffling forward, then felt the bed dip as she took a seat. When he didn’t reply, he heard her sigh. “Look, whatever happened between you and Sarah, I know you’re upset…”  
  
 _‘_ Upset’ was an understatement but James didn’t bother to correct his sister.  
  
“…but maybe you just need a breather to clear your head. If you fancy her this much to be so torn up over her—”  
  
James opened his eyes to glare at her. “I am not ‘ _torn up over her’_ , Jesus, Olivia.”  
  
“…whatever, then you’ll probably be willing to try again.” Olivia said dismissively. Her voice then dropped to something lower, something gentler. “You were never like this with Addy.”  
  
Ah, beautiful, tempting Addy, a whirlwind of her own. It was true, James had never done something as dramatic as trying to drink himself into a stupor because of her, or any ex-girlfriend for that matter. His instincts for self-preservation had always overruled his emotions.  
  
What rotten luck for him now to have a weakness be someone he couldn’t even have.  
  
“That’s because Addy really wouldn’t have cared if I had been,” he said, half-jokingly.  
  
“And Sarah would?”  
  
James gave a noisy exhale. He didn’t know the answer, so he didn’t bother.    
  
“Don’t do that again, all right?” Olivia sighed, and he could feel her hands smoothing down one side of the bedspread. A nervous habit, probably learned from their father. “You scared me half to death. I expected you to come home whole for Sunday dinner with Sarah and not…half-dead from alcohol poisoning.”  
  
Her words made equal amounts of guilt and shame shoot through him like an arrow. Her strange dreams had left her more anxious, especially about his wellbeing, although she concealed it well. He knew he could be a bastard at times, and felt sorry that Olivia knew this more than most.  
  
“Sorry,” he said. A blanket apology. “It was a stupid thing to do. I wasn’t…well, I wasn’t thinking straight.”  
  
“That’s an understatement.”  
  
He let that slide. “The children…they didn’t see did they?”  
  
“No. They were half-asleep when we came back from the cinema and had wanted to go straight to bed. Paula told us you had come home drunk and had brought you upstairs. We just told the kids the next day that you were ill and that they weren’t supposed to bother you.”  
  
That explained the lack of his usual little visitors, who seemed to view his bedroom when he was there as an additional nursery. James sighed. The mention of that Saturday’s events had also inadvertently brought up the blank in his mind again when he tried to remember what had happened at The Station. Jesus, was he just getting old? He had never suffered a memory block this bad.  
  
“How the hell did Paula put me to bed?” he asked, finding it both ludicrous and hilarious that a woman nearly their mother’s own age had hauled him up two flights of stairs. Olivia shrugged.  
  
“I honestly have no idea. But she’s a woman of many talents, Jamie. Don’t underestimate her.”  
  
“She’s like Tiggy. You know I don’t.”  
  
Olivia laughed at the mention of their beloved childhood governess. “She is, isn’t she? It’s remarkable.”  
  
She attempted to convince him once more to come with them, but James declined. He didn’t think he’d make such a good companion for either her or Thomas in his state.  
  
“Oh, it doesn’t matter if you’re quiet or what. You know Thomas will just hold your hand and look at the pictures. He was begging me at breakfast to go to the Breuer. He probably saw an advert for it or something, but I’ve also been wanting to go. You know he’d love it more if you were there.”  
  
James wavered, but he held fast. “Next time, I promise.”  
  
Olivia pouted but finally relented. “All right. Just get some rest then. Do you want anything while we’re out?”  
  
 _A time machine? Some magic pills?_ “No, I’m all right.”  
  
“Okay.” Olivia stood up from the bed, a dazzling swirl of red, black, and ivory. “Call me if you need anything?”  
  
“Always.”  
  
She blew him a kiss and shut the door. James turned on his side and attempted to get some more sleep, summoning the thick grey haze every time his mind dared to venture back to Sarah.

 

* * *

 

He woke some hours later, just a little past lunchtime, and felt much better than he had that morning. He hopped into the shower first thing, taking his time under the hot water, and emerged from it feeling like a new man. Paula looked quite pleased as she watched him gulp down a full bowl of minestrone soup and several hunks of crusty bread at the kitchen counter, his appetite suddenly ravenous.  
  
“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Mr. Cabot,” she said, the corner of her mouth tilted ever-so-upward in a smile.  
  
“Thanks to you, no doubt,” James acknowledged, tossing the last bit of bread into his mouth. “Apologies for the trouble I caused you.”  
  
Paula waved him off in a nonsensical manner. “It’s nothing new to me.”  
  
“I must look like a right child to you now. I must say, I’m amazed at your ability to carry dead weight up two flights of stairs.”  
  
The older woman laughed, showing rows of straight, immaculate teeth. “It is nothing. All of you are like children to me.”  
  
It was an odd statement, but James ignored it. He assumed that at her age, Paula had had her own children, and they reminded her of them. “Anyway, thank you again, Paula. Lunch was also excellent. My gratitude is yours to exploit at will.”  
  
He left the kitchen to join Charlotte in the living room, who was quietly watching an animated show about trains. His mind felt blissfully empty and he had no qualms about spending the rest of the day filling it with Disney-fied nonsense. Charlotte also seemed to enjoy the spontaneous one-on-one time and insisted on sitting with him on the couch, even going so far as taking her nap there rather than in her crib, leaning against his chest as she drained her baby bottle. James drifted off eventually as well, the huge, mostly-silent house a balm to his frayed emotions. Dreams evaded him, and when he finally woke up later in the afternoon to his phone ringing, it was the most rested he had felt in weeks.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“James, good to see you up.” It was Olivia, although her voice felt far away. “Listen, meet us at Alice’s Tea Cup uptown, won’t you? Thomas has been throwing a horrendous tantrum and I can barely get him to calm down. He keeps asking for you.”  
  
That didn’t sound like Thomas at all, but James chalked it up to crankiness from having missed a nap. “What? Just come on home then, Libs. I’ll take him to a café near here.”  
  
“No, he wants that place, because of the cakes and the lovely little cups. _Please,_ James, for me? Thomas would love to see you.”  
  
It didn’t seem like his sister to ask for assistance with the children, especially when she could usually keep all three in line with a loaded stare, but James decided to humor her, seeing that he was feeling much better anyway and did want to make up for worrying her unnecessarily.  
  
“But what about Charlotte?” he asked, suddenly noticing that the toddler was nowhere in sight, although there was a note on the coffee table from Paula stating that they’d gone out to get some groceries. “Do you want me to bring her?”  
  
“No, Paula has her. It’s fine. Alice’s Tea Cup, quick as you can, please, James, all right? Thank you. See you there.”  
  
She hung up quite abruptly, which left him staring at his phone, confused. Checking his messages and call logs, he saw that there had also been two calls from Sarah from the weekend, but he quickly deleted it, refusing to go through any more emotional turmoil at the moment.  
  
He dressed quickly and caught a cab to go uptown. Alice’s Tea Cup was on the corner near the museum. He’d never been there, but could see why it would be a hit for children. Illustrations and quirks that alluded to the books decorated the window display which showed a variety of cakes and sweets. The front door jangled when he pushed it open, bringing with it a gush of warm air redolent with the fragrance of vanilla sugar and steeped tea. He hadn’t even taken two steps in when he saw a pair of familiar green eyes look up to meet his. His breath suddenly felt caught in his throat.  
  
“James?” Sarah said. She was at a table by the display, a half-full coffee cup by her fingers, and an untouched cake set carefully on the other side of the place setting. Her face looked taut and tired. The expression in her eyes flitted from emotion to emotion: shock, confusion, annoyance, relief…  
  
 _Bloody bleeding buggering hell.  
  
_ “…Sarah.” He said, after a beat. He hesitated from saying anything further, angered at the situation he had unwittingly found himself in. Sarah didn’t flinch despite the ice in his tone, but instead continued the stare down they were engaged in. When it seemed she was also unwilling to say anything, James relented and allowed himself to break the ridiculous silence. “You must excuse me. I’m expecting to meet someone here.”  
  
“So was I,” Sarah said, and he felt his heart unexpectedly sink at the words. Had she moved on _that_ fast?!  
  
He schooled his features. “I see. Well I hope your date goes well…”  
  
“Date?” Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. “How _presumptuous_ of you.”  
  
“What is left for me to presume then, Miss Williams?” He approached her table, averse to making a scene. The shop was small and already people were glancing towards them. His sister, unfortunately, was not one of the crowd. “I think I’ve uncovered enough information that I could care for about you.”  
  
“You _asshole,_ ” Sarah was fuming, her cheeks already growing pink. She looked livid and ready to slap him. “How fucking _dare_ you?”  
  
“I did not come here to see you or be insulted,” he refused to take her bait. “Contrary to your beliefs, I _do_ have a life that I live that doesn’t revolve around a single person.”  
  
“Oh but I think you’re meeting _exactly_ the person you were supposed to meet,” Sarah’s tone also had a thread of ice running through it, and it made James inwardly shudder. Her defiance matched his own and was, if he was honest, quite impressive.  
  
“I don’t have time for this—”  
  
“I met your sister this afternoon, with Thomas. _She_ invited _me_ to meet _here_.”  
  
She put careful emphasis on the words and once it registered, James could hardly help himself from gaping.  
  
“…You’re bloody lying.”  
  
“Believe what you want, but you’re here, and your sister isn’t. And just now I got a delayed text from my assistant saying your sister had called her up to say she had to take a rain check today. Still a coincidence?”  
  
Sarah flashed her phone at him where, sure enough, a message stated loud and clear that Olivia had been in touch. The motive of her call to him a while ago then suddenly became quite obvious.  
  
James had to sit, unable to believe his own sister would dupe him and so cruelly. Gone was his earlier state of repose; he felt another headache in bloom.  
  
“That devious minx!” He resisted from groaning. “I should have known.”  
  
Sarah was silent now, her earlier show of arrogance and confidence apparently having died down from a flame to a flicker.  
  
A deep breath, then: “James.”  
  
“What?” he nearly growled. He didn’t like being played for a fool, and it had happened to him twice now in a span of three days. “I would really appreciate if you not attempt any sort of conversation with me at the moment.”  
  
Sarah gave an irritated noise. “Well, you _are_ sitting at my table.”  
  
At that, James shot a pointed look at her but said nothing. His head currently felt like it was being assaulted by sharpened sticks from the inside, and glaring seemed to make the pain increase. He covered his face with his hand instead. If he could only get the bleeding pain to go away, he could stand up and walk out without sacrificing his dignity. _Twice_ Sarah had witnessed this, and he was unwilling to let this become a habit. His own body was a bloody traitor.  
  
“Can we not fight?” Sarah’s voice sounded a mix of being exasperated and plaintive. “Please, I just want to…clarify some things.”  
  
 _Oh no._ James’ stomach churned. This was not what he had come for.  
  
“We have nothing to talk about.”  
  
“Oh really?” He could practically _feel_ her raising her eyebrow at him.  
  
“ _Yes,_ really.”  
  
“That ceased to be a viable answer in the ninth grade, James.” Sarah said, sounding very much like she was rolling her eyes. She kept going, however. “Well, even if you don’t want to listen I’m going to tell you anyway: Jareth was never my boyfriend.”  
  
James gritted his teeth, feeling familiar jealousy lick his insides. “Sarah…”  
  
“No, listen to me. You’re being ridiculous. I was fifteen when I met Jareth. He was a much older guy. He approached me and he…threatened to take my baby brother if I didn’t go with him. I told him to take a hike…”  
  
That got his attention.  
  
“What?” James looked up, feeling rather alarmed at Sarah’s story. She sat there across from him, an unreadable expression on her face. “Are you actually sitting here telling me that this…Jareth…” even the name made his skin crawl, “was a _pedophile?_ ”  
  
He saw Sarah’s breathing hitch. “When I say _much older,_ I meant he was around…twenty-eight or something when I met him.”  
  
It didn’t make it any more okay, given that twenty-eight compared to fifteen was still fucking comparing a full-grown adult to a child. He narrowed his eyes, willing himself to extend his patience despite the pain in his head.  
  
“Sarah, all right, you’ve got me. Start from the beginning. Where did you even meet this man?”  
  
She shook her head. “I forget now. He just…appeared one day.”  
  
“‘Appeared’? What do you mean ‘appeared’?”  
  
“I mean I don’t know where he’s _from_ , Jesus, James. I used to play in the park near our house…you know, pretending and stuff. There’s usually a lot of people there. He…came to us there.”  
  
“Us?”  
  
“I would sometimes take my brother with me. That’s probably how he knew Toby existed.”  
  
James couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that _this_ was the man he had been jealous of. A stalker pedophile with a penchant for kidnapping? What the bloody hell? For one thing it explained why she’d been so tight-lipped and affected whenever he brought Jareth up. And he had _forced_ her to talk about him. He was so appalled thinking of all the trauma and hurt he may have unconsciously contributed to that he felt nauseated at his own actions.  
  
“And your parents?”  
  
“They never knew about him. He…he came one day and threatened to take Toby and I had to solve some puzzle of his for him to not carry it out.”  
  
 _Puzzle?_ “He didn’t…Sarah, he didn’t touch you inappropriately or anything, did he?”  
  
“No,” she shook her head again. “He just made me solve his puzzle and when I did, he promised not to touch or threaten my brother again. But then he also asked me to come with him.”  
  
“And…?” James realized he was unconsciously holding his breath. Sarah looked at him like he had grown two heads.  
  
“Of course I didn’t. Do you think I’d still be here if I did?”  
  
Something in him seemed to crumble in relief at the words. No, she wouldn’t be, and he didn’t want to think of a scenario wherein she _had_ gone with Jareth. It was too disturbing. There was, however, one significant detail he remembered Sarah pointing out.  
  
“Sarah…” he was cautious now, aware of the fragility of the situation. “You said…in your apartment, you said…”  
  
She knew where he was going. “That you look like him?”  
  
He nodded mutely, unable to have finished his previous sentence. Sarah sighed, fiddling with her fingers.  
  
“You do…a lot. It sounds weird and wrong, but you do.”  
  
“And that…doesn’t bother you?” He would stay away from her if that was what she wanted. James couldn’t fathom how she could possibly feel okay with that scenario in place. He would stay away willingly if it meant she would feel safer…  
  
“No,” Sarah, to his surprise, insisted. “He didn’t abuse me or anything, James. It was just…a weird event that happened when I was fifteen. When I refused him, he went away and I never saw him again. It’s like…It’s like he vanished into thin air.”  
  
 _Vanishing? What?_ “Sarah, you’re _sure_ this was a real person then?”  
  
Sarah looked at him angrily. “If you don’t want to believe me we can end this conversation now.”  
  
“Okay. Okay.” _Benefit of the doubt._ “So you never saw him again.”  
  
“No. I never heard from him either. But Toby still remembers him a bit, which proves his existence.”  
  
James frowned, still not liking the fact that someone had preyed on Sarah at such a young age. He couldn’t imagine how he would feel if he found out the same had happened to his sister, being forced to solve puzzles and other nonsense at the threat of taking him away. It was just so entirely wrong.  
  
“And your parents _never_ knew? Why, Sarah?”  
  
“You think they’d believe me?” Sarah said, looking annoyed. “It sounds exactly like something a kid would make up.”  
  
 _Well, that was a tiny bit true._ “Still, if you had felt afraid…you could have told another adult.”  
  
“That’s the thing though. I never felt afraid with Jareth. Frustrated, maybe, but not afraid. Jareth wasn’t…well he wasn’t an _angel,_ but I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.”  
  
It sounded like such a crock of bullshit but James also desperately wanted to move beyond it, Stockholm Syndrome-esque symptoms non-withstanding.  
  
“All right…”  
  
“I can hear the doubt in your voice.”  
  
“Because he really _could_ have hurt you. I’m just…I don’t know, this is just a lot of information for me to process.”  
  
“But he _didn’t,_ ” Sarah insisted. “He’s gone now. I will never see him again. Besides…” her gaze turned almost bashful, “I would have you around, hopefully?”  
  
 _Really?_ He turned to look at her more closely. Sarah’s eyes had gone soft and she was biting her lower lip tentatively. For a moment neither of them seemed to dare to breathe.  
  
“I’m sorry for what happened last Saturday, James. I hadn’t meant for it to end the way it did.”  
  
“No! No no no,” James was quick to answer. Oh, he was such a cock-up. He was a right bastard. “No, don’t apologize. If there should be anyone apologizing, it should be me. I pushed you to talk about things and when I didn’t like the answer, I fled.”  
  
Sarah smirked. “Well, that’s true.”  
  
Her snarky answer surprised him, but this was Sarah after all. “No, you’re _supposed_ to say another round of ‘No it’s my fault’ until both of us forget who it was that started the stupid argument in the first place,” James replied good-naturedly.  
  
“No, in this case, I think it’s safe to conclude that it’s _definitely_ your fault.” A smile was tugging on her lips, and Sarah stretched her hand out towards the middle of the table, fingers unfurled like flower. James rested his hand against hers, not quite holding it yet, just touching enough to feel her warmth.  
  
“Are all our arguments going to be this way, love?”  
  
“Possibly.”  
  
“I already see myself at a disadvantage…”  
  
Sarah laughed and it loosened the knots that had collected in his chest. It pained him now, acknowledging just how much he loved her. He felt himself already becoming vulnerable just seeing her there, her head thrown back in sudden delight, her mouth open in silent laughter. Slowly, he felt his armor fall away, letting Sarah’s light take its place.  
  
 _Here was his heart_ , the books extolling his memory would say about this moment, _and it belonged to Sarah Williams_.  
  
“Let’s try again,” he said. It immediately got Sarah’s attention. “I mean, now that we’ve got our individual pasts out of the way, it might be worth it to…give this another shot.”  
  
Sarah’s fingers linked through his this time. “I can’t promise not fleeing just to make up for that one time that you did, though.”  
  
James brought her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on her fingers. This was it, the sealing of the deal. He could practically feel this event be labeled as a milestone, a sign that things were never going to be the same. It was an odd feeling, especially since this had not happened with any of his previous relationships before. With the euphoria, there was also a deep-seated feeling of impending doom that unsettled him. She would be his greatest strength and also his most glaring weakness, but that was a risk he was prepared to take.  
  
 _How you turn my world, you precious thing…  
  
_ “You may flee all you want,” he rested her hand against his cheek, looking straight into her eyes, “as long as you promise that you’ll always come back.”  
  
Sarah smiled at him then. A knowing smile, as though she had recalled a secret she was unwilling to share.  
  
“And if _you_ flee, Mr. Cabot,” she said, “I won’t be able to promise that I’ll be willing to get left behind again.”  
  
James chuckled. “Suit yourself, love.”  
  
Sarah grinned. “Now kiss me already, you big tease. People have been staring and I’ve wanted to make out with you since you first walked through that door.”  
  
James didn’t need to be told a second time. He leaned over, breaching the gap the small table provided, and grasped Sarah’s face in his hands. He closed his eyes and their lips finally met, the feel of her against him once more so _right_ he could have died then and there and it would have been worth it. Around them, the entire shop broke into a thunderous applause.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 _It is done?  
  
_ _Yes, Sire.  
  
_ _Good…good.  
  
_ _Your Majesty, if I may…  
  
_ _You may.  
  
_ _I fear much over this endeavor.  
  
_ _As we all do, Goodfellow, as with all things…  
  
_ _Yes…however, I fear we are hurtling towards an inevitable outcome. One we had hoped to avoid.  
  
_ A beat. _Speak up, old friend.  
  
_ _The High Prince is not this mortal, Your Grace.  
  
_ _Of that I am aware.  
  
_ _The paths speak of none of it but the girl loves the mortal. She does not love the High Prince.  
  
_ _Speak plainly.  
  
_ _What we had hoped to save may still be lost. This does not guarantee our deliverance, Your Grace.  
  
_ Silence. And then: _Are you questioning my authority?  
  
_ Knees on stone, hands held down with palms spread for supplication. He had not done this position for centuries, but his joints folded and locked automatically.  
  
 _Oh no. NO, Sire.  
  
_ _Look at me, Goodfellow.  
  
_ He dared to lift his head, regarding with a wary eye the almighty King on his throne of bones. Oberon had grown to the height of a mountain, his expression dark and glittering with uninhibited cruelty.  
  
 _Have care for your words. Should you speak, allude to, or even breathe of this matter concerning the High Prince again, you will be banished and placed over the Eternal Fire until the Great Fade. I shall personally escort you there. Old friend.  
  
_ The last two words were certainly the most threatening of the lot. Death was sure to be better than any of the sentences the King and Queen were bound to mete out as time passed and Jareth got no closer to returning.  
  
Oberon’s teeth clicked.  
  
 _Do I make myself clear?  
  
_ _Perfectly, Your Most Esteemed Majesty. Thy will be done.  
_  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORDY, finally, those two got it together. @_@ Hopefully we can now proceed with the second phase of the plot. Hahaha. 
> 
> My thanks and endless love to the regulars who leave comments and Kudos. I LOVE YOU. Despite me writing this as a sort of coping mechanism following DB's passing, the extra love makes writing it much more pleasurable. You are all much appreciated! :-*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for disappearing. Real life and work got in the way so this sat in my computer for a while. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for the patience! :) My love and gratitude are yours to keep.

Once upon a time there was a beautiful little girl who lived in a big house on top of a small hill.  
  
She lived with her parents who loved her very much, but they were often away. She was very happy, but she was also often very lonely.  
  
One day, she awoke with the surprise that her parents had come home. She went to greet them, overjoyed at their sudden arrival, but was stopped. It was there that she saw that her parents were holding each other and were silently weeping.  
  
_They lost the baby_ , her governess explained as she was readied for breakfast. _Give them a kiss and come straight down. They need to be alone for a moment, pet.  
  
_ The girl did not really understand how anyone could lose a baby. Was it like a pair of shoes? Or a hat? Perhaps it had been misplaced or had been delivered to the wrong address. Her young heart, although troubled, did not dare ask, however, afraid to burden her parents any further.  
  
A year passed, then two. Her mother came home but she was always ill and the girl could not play with her. Her father also came home more often, but he was always upset and rarely spoke. Their home, which used to ring with joyous laughter, became dark and silent and draped in shadows.  
  
_It’s not your fault, my darling,_ her governess said as she tucked the girl in, wiping away the tears that had fallen down her rosy cheeks. _Oh you poor dears. This is the third baby now. God bless the little angel.  
  
__How do they get lost?_ she asked. She still did not understand. _Winnie, where do they go?  
  
_ Her governess gave her a watery smile. _The Fairy King takes them.  
  
__What?  
  
__Aye, that’s where the wee ones go when they’re taken too soon. But don’t you worry now, pet. You’re safe. Just remember to behave yourself and stay the little angel you are. Your Mum and Dad are still lucky they have a wee one like you. Say your prayers now, love, and good night.  
  
_ That night, outside her window, the sky was vast and purple and burst with thousands of stars, and the moon hung low and golden like fruit, silent witnesses of all that was to come. The universe seemed to hold its breath as the girl knelt by her bedside, closed her eyes and clasped her hands.  
  
_I wish…  
  
_ That night, instead of prayers, the little girl made a wish to the Fairy King.  
  


 

* * *

 

 

It was taking all of Sarah’s concentration to put eyeliner on herself properly.  
  
_I hate cat’s eye, I fucking hate cat’s eye, why the hell did I go and put it on one and why did it turn out so perfect?  
  
_ She cursed at herself as she held her breath and drew a thin black line across her blank eyelid. _Good._ That went on properly. The only thing left was the winged part that always somehow seemed to go wrong.  
  
She lowered her pen to assess her handiwork. _Breathe, Sarah. It’s just makeup.  
  
__Breathe, it’s just dinner.  
  
__Breathe, it’s just meeting your boyfriend’s sister and her family and staying the weekend at their house, which is SO NOT WEIRD AT ALL.  
  
_ She glared at her reflection in the mirror, as if almost daring herself to comment. The Sarah that stared back at her surprised her. Although little had really changed physically, her reflection showed a young woman who was almost someone she couldn’t recognize. This Sarah, despite her towel-dried hair, unbuttoned blouse, and asymmetrical eye makeup, was a little bit more confident, a little bit more defiant. She noted with amusement that her eyebrow also seemed to have arched up a little higher, and her smile had taken to something that now resembled a smirk, lending to her a mischievous air.  
  
Only two weeks since she had started dating James Cabot and already she had taken on some of his mannerisms. _Lord have mercy.  
  
_ Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. Lexi’s name flashed on the screen on top of the message she had sent.  
  
_Nervous? :P  
  
_ Sarah was quick to type up a reply. _Remind me to never again agree to something like this.  
  
_ It really hadn’t been her idea to do this strange hybrid of meeting the family-dinner-sleepover that she had somehow found herself wrangled into. It had just been a compromise between her, James, and James’ sister who had wanted a family weekend _and_ be able to spend time with her to continue their postponed woman-to-woman chat. Olivia had somehow found out that Lexi had already been able to meet them for dinner (Shake Shack – James’ choice which entailed him earning Lexi’s immediate favor), and had insisted she be granted the same honor, but in the form of Sarah staying over for the weekend.  
  
Given that James had also been spending most of his time with Sarah in the hours after and before work, she really couldn't find it in her to say no. Besides...  
  
_Don’t whine so much; he’ll have to do it too.  
  
_ A weekend with James’ family and a weekend with Sarah’s in Westchester. It seemed a fair deal, but Sarah was already dreading it. Sometimes she hated the responsibilities that came with relationships. Stress during the weekend was something she rarely handled well.  
  
_I guess…  
  
__Is he picking you up?  
  
_ Sarah smirked. She could hear the sound of the shower that she’d left ten minutes prior still running. James took a ridiculous amount of time bathing, twice as much if she was in there with him. She’d had to drag herself out (albeit reluctantly) to make sure she still had ample time to prepare.  
  
_He’ll be the sole reason my building’s run out of hot water. If we’re late and his sister asks, I’m totally throwing him under the bus.  
  
__Wait, he has clothes at your place now? Wow, you guys move fast.  Next thing I know you’ll be married by spring. :P  
  
_ It was a joke, Sarah knew, but still an indirect jab. She supposed they _were_ moving a little too fast but it wasn’t as if she was orchestrating the entire thing. Even now she could see signs of James throughout her apartment: his keys beside her own, his shoes on the mat, his gloves in the catchall. He had clothes among hers in the bedroom and the closet, and a toothbrush and razor in the bathroom. When had it happened, his things slowly invading her space? She didn’t really know but their presence seemed right somehow and brooked no reason for argument.  
  
_Har har. You won’t be invited to the wedding.  
  
_ Typing the word ‘wedding’ gave Sarah butterflies and she had to force herself to get a grip. Lexi’s messages kept coming. Either her assistant had nothing to do that Saturday or she was equally anxious as Sarah.  
  
_I really am glad for you, Sar. :) Fight Club is a fantastic guy. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re also the talk of the entire building.  
  
_ Somehow that didn’t surprise her at all. Even on her own Sarah had already garnered a lot of attention. Rumors of her having a life outside of work would likely spread like wildfire, the same way it unfortunately had when she had broken up with her ex.  
  
For now, no one in their office but Lexi had seen or met James yet, and Sarah wanted to keep it that way.  
  
_And I trust you’ll keep them in check.  
  
__Would you ever doubt me? :)  
  
_ “Like I would doubt a ticking bomb _,_ ” Sarah muttered under her breath, chuckling. Lexi had so far been an unremarkable friend for her throughout the whole ordeal. In addition to never questioning her story about the Labyrinth, she had also, without her asking, done an overhaul on Sarah’s schedule, subtly cancelling anything that took place after 5 PM and making sure anything that needed any heavy-lifting happened in the morning, to be taken care of once Sarah first breezed in for the day. It was the stuff movies about friendships were made of. She didn’t _deserve_ someone like Lexi.  
  
_Ok, enough chit-chat. Finish up and get on with your weekend. Tell me what happens ok? Or I’m asking Olivia directly.  
  
__You WOULDN’T.  
  
__I WOULD. Would you ever doubt me? :)  
  
_ Sarah laughed and set her phone down, now significantly less anxious. Silence fell around her like a curtain; the shower had also stopped.  
  
“James, hurry up,” she called out. “It’s already 4:00. We’re going to be late.”  
  
She heard James yell out an indiscernible reply and Sarah went back to finishing her makeup. A flick, and the outline of a wing was in place. All she had to do was thicken it up. She tilted forward towards the mirror to get a closer look…  
  
And was startled to see a reflection of a pair of sharp grey eyes staring back at her, set into a form that seemed cloaked in the shadows.  
  
Sarah shrieked, dropped her eyeliner, and backed up into the wall. The items on the foyer table, disturbed by her movement, clattered onto the floor. A door slammed, and a pair of feet came running. Suddenly she was held against damp skin, arms holding her in a protective stance.  
  
“Sarah? What in God’s name—? Are you all right?”  
  
James held her face in his hands, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were wide with fear.  
  
“There was somebody here!” Sarah blurted out. She looked frantically at the mirror again, expecting to see the reflection of… _something…_ still staring back at her. But the shadows were gone and had been replaced by the warm rays of early afternoon sunshine, which had _definitely_ not been there before. “James, there was _someone!_ ”  
  
“What?” James let go of her and did a quick search of the apartment. It would have been funny, her watching him rushing from one room to the next, half-dressed and his hair still dripping water, if she had not been so terrified.  
  
“Sarah, there’s no one here. Love, are you _sure_ you saw something?” James came to a stop in front of her, chest heaving from his efforts, his face taut.  
  
_(The tall, dashing hero. Is that what you wanted, Sarah?)  
  
_ “Yes! Yes, I swear to God.”  
  
“What did you see exactly?” A hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look up and into James’ pale eyes, hardened now with worry. Another held her hand firmly as though to ground her. Sarah was shaking, but her tongue stayed.  
  
There had been eyes and they had definitely been watching her. But…from a _mirror?  
  
_ Could it have finally been someone from the Labyrinth, making contact after fourteen years? Her dreams were so erratic now that she couldn’t even tell, but how then could you explain such a thing?  
  
( _Imagining things now, Sarah mine?)  
  
_ James turned his head to look at the mirror, noticing how she stared at it. It only showed mostly the two of them now, him half-naked and sopping wet, and her pale and shaking, nothing at all like the Sarah she had seen just minutes before. She looked younger, terrified, and with James there, as if she was fifteen again with the Goblin King…  
  
The words bubbled out of her without her thinking it through, the realization that what she saw could be Labyrinth-related immediately raising red flags: “Just…shadows. I thought they were…eyes. I thought…but it was probably just shadows.”  
  
“Shadows?” James repeated. “Love, are you _sure?_ You sounded so frightened, you scared the bejeezus out of me.” He ran his fingers through her hair in a vigorous motion, combing it back as though to see her properly. “Are you sure? You’re all right now, then?”  
  
( _Shadows? How original, precious.)  
  
_ “Y-yes.” Sarah’s heart was still racing. “It…it was probably nothing. Sorry.”  
  
James heaved a sigh of relief and pulled her close, holding her in a tight embrace. His skin was warm and damp against hers, his chest flushed pink from exertion. His heart was a staccato beat; she really had scared him badly. “You will put me in an early grave,” he said half-jokingly.  
  
“Sorry…” she murmured, although it wasn’t an apology for what James had probably expected.  
  
( _Sometimes, ignorance is a gift, darling girl. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?)  
  
_ “You’re still okay to do this then? I mean, Olivia will understand…”  
  
“No,” Sarah was quick to answer. She had never been one to go against her word and, circumstances taken into consideration, accepting Olivia’s invitation was better than to spend the night at her apartment, which now felt like a trap ready to be sprung. “No, I want to meet your family. I guess I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Work…”  
  
“Too many date nights?” James teased. It was a half-truth: the entire two weeks they’d been together was comprised of dates that happened nearly daily. Cold and exhausted after their city treks, they would troop back to Sarah’s apartment, making love amongst tangled sheets before dropping into a fitful (at least for Sarah) slumber. They would then rise with the sun to take the train uptown and start the day anew, Sarah to her work and James to his sister’s. It left her in a state of being perpetually tired yet deeply fulfilled, but she didn’t want to trade it for anything else at this point.  
  
“Just things piling up.”  
  
“It’ll get better.”  
  
She couldn’t tell James about the Labyrinth, or even the truth about Jareth. That would be one path she had to ensure never to cross. Not only would it be so unbelievable, she didn’t want to risk Jareth even knowing about James, and vice-versa. It was already a big risk as it was, with her going out with someone who looked so much like the Goblin King.  
  
She looked at the mirror once more to make sure nothing was there. The sunlight bounced off its surface in a dazzling halo, but once her eyes adjusted, it revealed the two of them, heaving against each other, like two halves of a whole, only she was the only one looking straight at their reflection.  
  
“All right,” James murmured against her hair. “All right.”

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
There was the little girl again. Pale hair. Dark sweater. Leather shoes clacking loudly against damp stone. Running, always running.  
  
“Wait!” Sarah called out. “Stop!”  
  
“No!”  
  
Was she running away from something? Or was she running towards something? Sarah couldn’t really tell. The child tore across the pathways like a crazed bird, light-footed and sure.  
  
“I can’t!” The girl sounded near tears. “My brother…”  
  
_Brother?_ There had been no brother before.  
  
“I’ll help you!” Sarah offered, although she wasn’t even sure what assistance she could possibly give. The Labyrinth seemed to stretch on and on. Her lungs burned. “Just stop!”  
  
“You can’t help me.” The girl was sobbing now. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault. They’ll take him. They’ll take my brother.”  
  
“Who’ll take him? Jareth?” Something ominous was in the air, and she needed the girl to stop and tell her what was going on. “Stop and tell me! I’ll help you!”  
  
“You can’t help me!”  
  
The child’s crying, echoing in the stillness of the Labyrinth even long after Sarah could no longer see the girl in front of her, was eerie. Her distraught voice surrounded her like a room full of restless ghosts, the sound beating the soft ominous whispers against her skull.  
  
_They’ll take him. They’ll take my brother.  
  
__You can’t help me._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sarah awoke with a start.  
  
“All right?” came James’ voice from beside her, sounding very much as though he was coming from the other end of a very long tunnel. In the same way that one always woke disoriented after a nap, reality came back to Sarah in disjointed pieces: Mirror. Dinner. Backseat. James.  
  
“Sarah? Love?” James’ voice was louder now. She could feel his hand close around hers and grip it firmly, grounding her. She blinked. His face was inches from hers, his forehead creased with worry.  
  
“Whoa, I fell asleep?” she muttered. They were still in the Uber, stalled in traffic just off the bridge. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “I didn’t notice.”  
  
“You did, before we could get out of Brooklyn.” The leather seats squealed as James adjusted his position, offering her more room. Sarah wasn’t looking at him but she was sure he was staring. “Sarah…?”  
  
“Hm?” Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding, but she schooled her features to reflect one of passiveness.  
  
“You’re still okay to do this then?” His eyes assessed her, his lips set in a thin line. “You’re a bit pale.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers, and Sarah nearly drew away at his touch.  
  
“No cancelling,” she declared, repeating her answer from earlier. “I want to meet your family, and they’ve been expecting us.”  
  
“All right, all right, I was just checking.” James lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it. He was wearing some of the few clean clothes he’d left at her apartment: a hunter green sweater, a pair of rumpled jeans, his usual boots, and yesterday’s wool overcoat. Sarah swore the man would look good even wearing a trash bag. It wasn’t…  
  
( _Fair? Nothing ever is, precious.)  
  
_ Sarah inwardly shuddered.  
  
“You still look a fright though,” James stroked her cheek gently, and Sarah gave him a pointed look. It didn’t help that he was also harping continuously on something being _off.  
  
_ “It’s _fine._ Stop hovering, James.”  
  
James made a non-committal sound at the back of his throat and retracted his hand. “It’s just an observation, love. Just tell me if something’s bothering you, yeah?”  
  
He made her sound like a child, and Sarah immediately regretted biting his head off so readily.  
  
“Sorry…I’m just being grumpy…”  
  
“Hmh,” said James in a tone that told her he agreed, but was unwilling to take her bait and start an argument. Although they shared similar dominating personalities and rather short tempers, Sarah was thankful James was at least more able to rein in his own. She leaned against him apologetically, savoring his warmth. Thankfully, he complied, draping an arm over her and linking his fingers with hers. He smelled like leather and lavender, which oddly made her heart twinge.  
  
She couldn’t tell James about the Labyrinth. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t…  
  
( _Sometimes, ignorance is a gift, darling girl. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?)  
  
_ “What?” Sarah felt slightly alarmed at the words that were forming so readily in her thoughts. It only lasted seconds, then vanished like smoke in a darkened room.  
  
“What?” James asked, looking up from his phone.  
  
“…Sorry.” _Jesus Christ, get a grip._ “Are we still very far?”  
  
“Not so much.” Traffic was already moving now and they were weaving in and out of streets with more ease. “We’ll be there ten minutes, tops. Nervous?”  
  
“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” Sarah sat up, grinning slyly, and James gave her an equally mischievous smirk back. She risked jabbing his side for a quick tickle and readily laughed at the outraged look on James’ face as he curled up instinctively.  
  
“All right, but just to tell you, you’ve forfeited my help now at any point during tonight,” he said, the mood in the car now significantly lightened. “You’re on your bloody own… _stop bloody tickling me!”_

 

* * *

 

It really didn’t take much longer, as James had predicted. Ten minutes later, the Uber rolled to a stop in front of an impressive-looking brick-and-stone townhouse on Vandam Street. James helped her out and shut the car door behind her, then led the way to the front door, her overnight bag hitched up on his shoulder.  
  
“You live _here?_ ” Sarah was unable to help herself from gawking.  
  
“My sister does, not me. I only…well, I squat, really,” he was quick to remind her, winking at the last sentence. He unlocked the front door with a ring of keys he fished from his pocket. It opened with a soft click and swung open noiselessly. James extended an arm out. “After you, my lady.”  
  
Sarah stepped into a foyer, the heels of her boots clicking on the antique checkerboard-patterned marble floor. James helped her out of her coat before removing his, hanging them both up on the standing hat rack by the door.  She had the childish desire to hold her breath to help keep herself and her nerves together, but the air, thick with the warm, delicious scent of roast chicken, garlic, butter, and rosemary made her think otherwise.  
  
“Sarah, Sarah, Sarah!”  
  
A towheaded blur zoomed out from one of the inner rooms and tackled her legs with the force of a small hurricane. James laughed as he steadied her, before peeling off the child that had gregariously wrapped himself around her limbs. Thomas grinned cheekily at Sarah from his uncle’s arms.  
  
“Hello, darling boy. Did you miss me? No?” James pretended to look hurt as, instead of responding to him, Thomas held out his arms to Sarah.  
  
“Want Sarah.” Thomas insisted, his tone bordering on a whine. Now it was Sarah’s turn to laugh as James’ expression turned sour. As soon as she opened her arms to receive him Thomas readily leapt into her hold.  
  
“We waited and waited and waited for you!” the boy said eagerly, his eyes shining. “You took so long!”  
  
“Aww, sorry, Tom.” She couldn’t help but stick her tongue out at James, who pouted. “Have you been good?”  
  
“I see, Uncle James is chopped liver now.” James said as Thomas nodded enthusiastically in response to Sarah’s question. At his nephew’s continued disregard of him and his presence, he sighed dramatically. “…Unbelievable.”  
  
“I believe it’s called getting a taste of your own medicine, brother dear.” Olivia walked into the foyer and gave James a playful smile. Even though she was dressed more informally now than when Sarah last saw her, in a soft grey cowl-neck sweater and leggings, Sarah didn’t think she had ever seen a woman so well-put together. “You always were a bit starved for attention.”  
  
“That really is an unfair statement.”  
  
“It always is when it’s true.” Olivia winked at Sarah, then gave her a welcoming smile. “Hello, Sarah, it’s so nice to see you again. I’m terribly sorry for having cancelled on you that last time.”  
  
“You _meant_ for that to happen,” James scoffed.  
  
“You wound me, baby brother. It was an honest mistake. And I’ve already apologized to Sarah.” She looked at Sarah again, who nodded in acknowledgement. “Anyway, it ended well, didn’t it?”  
  
“Count yourself lucky,” James smirked. He glanced about the room. “Where are the other little monsters? Bit too quiet for my liking.”  
  
“Upstairs with Peter, they’ve got a video on. I needed them out of my hair while dinner was being prepared. This one insisted on staying downstairs to wait for you both…” Olivia called her son’s attention just as the toddler had started twirling a lock of Sarah’s hair around his fingers. “Thomas, darling, that’s enough now. Go find Daddy and wash up for dinner.”  
  
It took a bit more coaxing before Thomas allowed himself to be set down, and even then only agreed to obey his mother if one of them would go with him. James happily volunteered for the task, leading his nephew away to get ready. After they had gone, Sarah followed Olivia into the front parlor where a stately brick-and-marble fireplace stood, a roaring fire in the hearth readily providing the warmth that filled the entire floor.  
  
“You have a very beautiful home,” Sarah said, admiring her surroundings. Although she had been to plenty of homes in the city, very few had captured her attention and even fewer had catered to her aesthetic sensibilities. The house itself looked to be a renovated townhouse that was reminiscent of something you could find in London but which also maintained a distinct downtown New York flair. Modern light fixtures illuminated hardwood floors, classic plaster moldings, and the restored fireplaces in the front parlor and in the dining room. The neutral color scheme of the furniture kept everything bright and classy, resulting in clean lines that went wonderfully well with the large doors and windows that opened out to the 3-story private garden at the back.  
  
Despite the obvious display of wealth, there was still a distinct sense of homeliness that pervaded throughout: picture frames littered most of the available flat surfaces among candle holders and mini-sculptures, various toys were tucked into nooks and crannies, and vases of dried lavender bouquets sat next to piles of books, half-finished crayon drawings, and the occasional iPad. The Cabot-Schwartz home was obviously expensive but also tasteful and, she was secretly relieved to note, not at all pretentious.  
  
Olivia smiled at her compliment. “Thank you.”  
  
“Is it a historical house?”  
  
“19th century. You have a well-trained eye. We’re forever trying to prevent the children from writing on the walls to still preserve it somewhat. What I’ve found easiest to do is to just close my eyes as the boys constantly try to blame each other.”  
  
A flickering from the firelight suddenly made clear to Sarah the traces of exhaustion in the older woman’s eyes, a tiredness that she could see was reflected in the edges of her smile. She guessed that being a mother of young children would not be easy, especially if you constantly tried to keep them out of trouble.  
  
“Anyway, I really am pleased you agreed to stay over for the weekend. It must be so unconventional, but the children do love their uncle so, and Thomas seems to have taken a shine to you.”  
  
“Does this happen for all the girls he meets?” Sarah joked, unable to stop herself. To her relief, Olivia readily laughed with relish.  
  
“Caught on haven’t you? James is quite the Casanova…but no, he doesn’t bring girls home. So no one has really stayed the night like this. Except maybe Addy, but it took a year or two before we even met her.”  
  
James had told her bits and pieces about his previous relationship, but it was really nothing for Sarah to feel threatened or jealous about. She nodded.  
  
“Anyway, I hope it isn’t too inconvenient. I know you’re awfully busy.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Her mind drifted back to the mirror incident earlier that day and affirmed the thought that she would rather be in SoHo with James’ family than her apartment at the moment. “It’s no trouble at all…”  
  
“Wonderful,” Olivia smiled. “I must say I’m a tad excited myself…James is really very private so this is quite a treat. As his older sister, it’s sometimes quite fun to still be in the know of what he’s up to when he’s not killing himself with work.” She winked mischievously. “Do you have any siblings?”  
  
Sarah nodded. “Only one. A brother.”  
  
“Oh, you have one too?” Olivia looked pleased. “We have a lot in common already. Where does he work?”  
  
Sarah laughed. “Well, unless you count mowing lawns and babysitting, he’s not doing a lot of work right now. He’s only fifteen.”  
  
“ _Fifteen!_ ”  
  
“My dad remarried after divorcing my mother and then had Toby shortly after. Needless to say, the pregnancy announcement was quite the after-school surprise.” She smiled at the memory of her, her father, and stepmother in the kitchen as they had told her of the pregnancy, and the fact that she had been in tears not even a minute in. What an absolute child she had been.  
  
“James was also quite the surprise,” Olivia said. “He and I are seven years apart.”  
  
“Unplanned then?” Sarah grinned. She made a mental note to ensure to dig up dirt on James before the weekend was over. Olivia seemed more than willing to spill anyway.  
  
“You can say that…” Olivia looked wistful, leaning back against the Swedish designer sofa they were lounging on. The oversized cushions pillowed against her like marshmallows. “Everyone was glad when he came but he was such a strange baby. Rarely cried…but the temper tantrums. Oh my _goodness._ I liked him less when he was growing up than when he was a baby. When he started talking, it was all over. The novelty was entirely gone.”  
  
Sarah chuckled, remembering as well just how much of a hellion Toby had been. “I know how _that_ feels.”  
  
A knock sounded on the door, interrupting their chat, and Sarah turned to look at the visitor. She had expected to see James so was quite surprised to see instead a stern-faced, middle-aged woman at the doorway. Her silver hair was pulled up sharply and set into a neat bun on top of her head, and she seemed to regard Sarah with a vague sense of recognition. For a second, Sarah felt quite vulnerable under her stare.  
  
“Dinner is served, Mrs. Schwartz,” the woman said, her voice rich and silky, as though it were made of running water.  
  
“Thank you, Paula,” Olivia replied, her tone light. She gestured towards Sarah. “This is Sarah, James’…shall we say, partner?” She stole a glance at Sarah, who merely nodded, although the blood was rushing to her ears and turning them scarlet. “Sarah, this is Paula, the woman we all cannot live without. The house would be a right mess if it were not for her.”  
  
“Hello,” Sarah attempted a smile, although she couldn’t help but fidget as Paula looked at her. “How do you do?”  
  
“Very well, thank you,” the older woman responded, although her tone fell flat. She didn’t attempt to return the question, and instead turned back to Olivia. “Mr. Schwartz and Mr. Cabot have also come downstairs already with the children.”  
  
Oh yes, there it was then. Behind Paula came the low sounds of chairs scraping and children giggling. Olivia raised a hand and tapped Sarah’s knee.  
  
“All right, let’s go then, before they overturn the table, the little rebels. I bet James is also dying to get you back.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “If he asks, tell him I’ve already given you a copy of his baby album. I haven’t yet, of course, but I will before the weekend is up.”  
  
Sarah grinned, feeling jovial at the thought, but it quickly disappeared as a strange uneasy feeling of someone watching her made the back of her neck prickle, as though she were suddenly a specimen in a glass case. Glancing up, she met Paula’s eyes as she and Olivia went past. The older woman instantly averted her gaze before quickly excusing herself and walking away towards one of the inner rooms.  
  
_The fuck?  
  
_ “Sarah?”  
  
_Does she know me from somewhere?  
  
_ “Sarah.”  
  
Olivia’s voice brought her back to the present. They were in the hallway, a few steps from the dining room where Sarah could see three small children and two grown men, both of whom seemed utterly perplexed at one of the high chairs. Olivia glanced at her worriedly, blocking Sarah’s view of the room beyond.  
  
“You looked…dazed there for a second. Are you all right?”  
  
“Yes, thanks,” Sarah replied quickly. “Just…peaky, I guess.”  
  
Everything was all right. She just needed to get a grip.  
  
_Get a grip. Get a grip. Get a grip.  
  
_ “All right then.” Olivia gave her an encouraging smile and continued leading the way.  
  
Sarah followed. A shudder went up her spine involuntarily and she crossed her arms, still feeling as though someone was still watching her, even when no one was clearly there.  
  
She didn’t dare to look if there was a mirror nearby.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much of James here but it's because Sarah is thoroughly distracted, poor girl. Don't worry, he'll be back in the next chapter.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY for the wait! It was quite an effort to squeeze this chapter out. I think I have several versions of it already lying around. Anyway, hope everyone had a good holiday and that 2017 is looking up. :) Bowie's now one year gone into the stars. Still miss him like it was yesterday.

Even though he had already initially agreed on his family meeting Sarah, James also couldn’t shake the feeling that something was definitely _off.  
  
_ He had almost readily said yes to Olivia as soon as she had extended the invitation. He had been expecting it, actually. His sister had always been quick to know whether or not he was involved with anyone (she made it her _business_ to know), and so hadn’t taken long for it to be established that she knew about Sarah, although he no longer bothered with the details how. One of her worst habits was unfailingly asking him to bring them over, her optimism never wavering no matter how many times he declined.  
  
“Dinner with us soon?” Olivia had asked him over the phone a week past. “Any restaurant, and since we might end late, we can also make arrangements for her to stay over.”  
  
“A dinner _and_ a sleepover? You’re pushing it,” he’d replied. At the time, Sarah had been dozing on his lap while they had been at her apartment. A rare quiet night, until his sister came calling.  
  
“I won’t lie, that’s mostly for the children. They haven’t seen you in ages and keep asking for you at night. They do miss you…” Olivia’s tone had turned to one of mock disdain, “although I’ve no idea what it is they miss you _for_.”  
  
It had been a seemingly harmless statement, but James had felt the guilt all the same, whether or not it had been true. “You forget, I have an irresistible charm and wit that you and Peter sorely lack,” he had attempted to joke, mostly for his own benefit. Olivia had given a genteel snort.  
  
“Oh please. Or they may unfortunately have no other uncle to base their opinions or shower their affections on. Possibly more that.”  
  
“You’re awful.”  
  
“I’m the only one you’ve got.” A smile had been evident in his sister’s voice as she had repeated the retort she’d been telling him since childhood. “Oh, please say yes, at least to the dinner, James.”  
  
It had been easy at the time to agree, _both_ to the dinner and to staying the weekend. As a general rule, he didn’t let anyone he was involved with have anything to do with his family, preferring them to be on separate planes for as long as he could bear, but his guilt with the children – no longer babies and prone to feeling his absence, but not understanding the reason – and the fact that Sarah just felt _different –_ it was no use delaying the inevitable; he _wanted_ her to meet his family – had made it a simple enough decision. It had _seemed_ bold enough to be right at the time anyway.  
  
That afternoon’s events however, hearing Sarah suddenly scream and seeing her looking so unbelievably frightened, had jarred him enough to consider canceling the rendezvous altogether. He almost had, in the car, when Sarah was asleep, and would have done so if she had not awakened and insisted they still go. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but Sarah had seemed her normal self by the time she had met Olivia. On the other hand, the longer James stayed in the house, the feeling of _wrongness_ seemed to feel more pronounced.  
  
“You’re looking a bit green around the gills,” Peter commented as they trooped downstairs with the children for dinner. Sarah and Olivia had been left alone for a few minutes at most. “Are you actually nervous?”  
  
“Of course I’m _not,_ ” James almost snapped.  
  
“Oh but you _are_ ,” Peter crowed. “That’s almost adorable, if you weren’t actually 6-feet tall of temperamental Englishman in a strop.”  
  
Remembering that they had children listening, James bit his tongue to hold back a riposte that wouldn’t have been friendly. Peter was one to talk; he could barely speak the first time he had dinner with their family, but it had been so long ago that James himself couldn’t even recall properly. That, and he had also been a bit drunk at the time.  
  
“Don’t push it, mate.”  
  
“It’ll be fine, James. It’s just dinner and a night.” It was laughable how Peter attempted to sound comforting, but James admired his effort. “Remember when we did this with Addy?”  
  
_Addy?_ “That was dinner and caviar at Le Bernardin prior to watching a show at the Met. Please elaborate _how_ this can be the same thing.” The children hadn’t even been there. It had been a very strict grown-ups-only affair.  
  
“Alright fine, that’s a terrible comparison, but surely this one will be better right?”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well, for one thing,” Peter adjusted his hold on Thomas, and gave him a small, knowing grin, “kids are _great_ distractions.”  
  
In a way, his brother-in-law was right. It was quite difficult to think of anything else by the time the three little hellions also known as his sister’s children had been set free in the dining room. Paula had already set the table so the boys, who for some reason found it hilarious to run around and/or crawl underneath, were always in danger of upsetting a gravy boat or the soup tureen. Charlotte added to the din by banging a spare spoon on her high chair tray as Peter and James attempted to figure out the right way to buckle her in. By the time Olivia did appear, James was already sufficiently distracted from the ringing in his ears caused by the children’s’ noise to feel properly nervous.  
  
“I leave you boys alone with the children for two minutes and they’re already running circles around you both. Literally and figuratively.” Olivia made a tsking noise with her tongue. “Also, what _have_ you darlings been doing to Charlotte’s new high chair? It’s been buckled the wrong way…”  
  
“Where’s Sarah?” Peter was the one who asked first, noting that no one had come in after Olivia. “She spooked already? With all this noise though, I’m not going to be surprised if she’s run off.”  
  
“You’d best not to underestimate her…” Olivia’s eyes shone, just as another voice rang in James’ head.  
  
( _Underestimating the Champion of the Labyrinth? Tsk tsk, little one. That would be a fatal folly on your part._ )  
  
James licked his lips. _Champion of the_ what _?_ “Where is she?” he asked when Sarah still hadn’t come in after Olivia. “You’ve not frightened her off, surely?”  
  
“Don’t be daft, baby brother. She’s a perfectly capable woman. She may have lingered in the hallway, but she’s coming, I can assure you.” She must have seen as James narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her because she laughed. “Stop! What are you so nervous about?”  
  
He repeated the same thing he’d told Peter. “I’m _not,”_ he said almost petulantly. He didn’t exactly know why he was feeling so high-strung and taut. _Was_ it nerves? He hadn’t been properly nervous in a long time so he couldn’t really say. He spared his sister the details of that afternoon’s incident in Sarah’s apartment – _James, there was_ someone _!_ – but also allowed suspicion for mischief he knew she was capable of. Olivia wasn’t truly malicious, but them being there also meant giving up a semblance of his control (it was his sister’s house, after all), and it was something that didn’t sit well with him. Especially when something just didn’t feel right.  
  
“Calm down, dearest,” Olivia cupped his cheek in her palm, a gesture she had used to do when he was younger. “It’s just us.”  
  
_I know,_ James thought. Although there was something raising his hackles that he couldn’t pinpoint, he knew it would be no use elaborating to his sister. “Sorry,” he said. “Must be nerves.” He frowned when Olivia pinched his cheek.  
  
Peter, meanwhile, already started wrangling the boys up, catching them in mid-run and holding them still by encircling an arm each around their waists. “Hey, hey, that’s enough now. We have a special guest tonight. Uncle James brought—”  
  
“Sarah!” Thomas exclaimed, wriggling free of his father, and it was as though her name was a secret code or a whispered threat, because the room suddenly seemed to dim and the air grew thin. James, more reflex than anything, followed his nephew’s mad dash and saw Sarah just as she entered, her cheeks flushed from the warmth the lit fireplace was spreading throughout the house, and her eyes hard and searching, but relaxing instantly as soon as their gazes locked. Her very presence seemed to negate the dreadful choking feeling he had just encountered, and with her every step, Thomas now in hand, the room seemed to grow light again and his lungs expanded.  
  
“You all right?” Sarah asked him once she closed the breach between them. The hand that was not holding Thomas’ was curled in a fist, as though ready for a fight. It was a strange gesture, but one he could ignore. James took it, entwining his fingers with her own, and squeezed.  
  
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Better _now_ ,” he said without a second thought. He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth because _By God, Cabot, could you be more saccharine than in this moment when your entire family is watching_ but Sarah surprised him by giving a giggle that sounded almost relieved.  
  
“Yeah, me too,” she said, giving him a bright smile and squeezing his hand in turn. She gestured to the waiting group behind him; Olivia must have confiscated even Charlotte’s spoon and bribed her with chocolate to keep her quiet, if the silence was anything to go by. “Your family?”  
  
“Unfortunately.”  
  
“Don’t be rude.”  
  
“I’m not, just truthful.” His instincts were still on high alert, but it was also being dulled by his rapid heartbeat. _Dinner and a night. Dinner and a night. It will be over before you know it. Get it over with.  
  
_ “ _My_ Sarah,” Thomas said plaintively as he tried to pry James’ fingers off. _The cheek!_ “No touching.” James swallowed a laugh, knowing it could very well trigger a temper tantrum. Now that he considered it, it did seem true that his niece and nephews seemed to have inherited the worst of his traits.  
  
“C’mon then, Thomas.” He switched hands, latching on to Thomas’ instead. Glancing at Sarah, he gave her a wink. “It’s high time we started sharing Sarah with the rest of the family.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The magic was straining. In fact, almost failing. He really should learn to never doubt the Young Master. Even in his current state, Goodfellow could sense _his_ magic crackling through, sporadic but powerful, as though it were a slow-awakening beast.  
  
_No, no, no. Not yet. Not yet.  
  
_ Sweat prickled at his brow as he cast spell upon spell on the waiting food and drink in the dining room. The mortals took no notice, their laughter and talk not even wavering once. Magic hung heavy in the air like smoke, but the mortals did not even blink, not even the Young Master or his Champion. Goodfellow felt almost disappointed, until he remembered what was at stake.  
  
_More time, more time, more time, great Danu, give us more time…  
  
_ Fearful as he was of his king and friend, Goodfellow feared the Unknown more, that which only the fate of the High Prince could promise, and he was in no hurry to face it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Maybe it was the wine, James couldn’t be sure, but he was feeling visibly relaxed by the time the dinner was over.  
  
“What’s _in_ this stuff?” he asked, taking a last gulp that had been left in his second glass. He felt like he was in university again, sitting with his mates in the green, the clouds swirling above their heads in lazy patterns. And it was almost as if he could feel his skin _thrumming.  
  
_ “Good, right? We’ve had it in the cellar for a while.” Peter peered at the label on the bottle. He’d already had two and was well into his third, but was taking it in sips. “Hm, it’s just Bordeaux. 2010, possibly from our wedding.”  
  
“It _is_ lovely,” Olivia agreed. She raised her glass to her husband, who was their resident sommelier. “Good choice, darling.”  
  
“It smells like _vinegar,_ ” Kit said, making a face. He pinched his nose in distaste and held it up in a snobbish fashion. Sarah, who sat across from him, looked inclined to agree. “Blech.”  
  
“ _Rude_ , Christopher,” came Olivia’s warning tone. In response, Kit pressed his lips together but remained looking disagreeable.  
  
“It _is_ pretty good, love,” James said, attempting to convince Sarah once more. She had been poured a glass like the rest of them but had only taken a few sips from it. Her wineglass still sat by her plate, largely untouched. It didn’t help either that Thomas, who sat beside her in the haphazard seating arrangement they had been forced into (as dictated by the children’s whims), had added a dash of his own grape juice into her drink ‘to make it taste better’. “We can get you a new glass.”  
  
“No, thank you,” Sarah said, her tone a bit tight. “I’m just…not in the mood for it today.”  
  
He’d never really seen her refuse alcohol of any sort before; two or three straight weeks he’d already spent with Sarah as his partner and she downed any alcoholic beverage set in front of her like a champ. Coupled with her knack of coming up with deliciously colorful swear words, he had actually begun suspecting that she was part pirate.  
  
“All right, we won’t force you,” Peter said graciously. His brother-in-law approved of her, James could tell. Reading him wasn’t that difficult; Peter was not an uncomplicated character. It was just the simple difference of how he reacted to Sarah’s presence (relaxed, open, laughed more, asked questions) compared to how he had acted around Addy (cold, a little distant, speaking only when spoken to, secretly intimidated). Not that James needed his approval, but it was nice to have, especially if he needed extra leverage with Olivia. “It’s more for James at any rate.”  
  
He saw as Sarah gave Peter a smile that, although seemed forced, was not unkind. The meal had gone well, with Sarah being her usual eloquent and funny self sans any cursing, and her patiently tending to each child as they fought over her attention, but James could already sense a growing discomfort. He wondered if she was tired. It _had_ been quite an eventful day…  
  
_Just…shadows. I thought they were…eyes. I thought…but it was probably just shadows.  
  
_ His head was buzzing and he shook it to clear it.  
  
( _How much do you actually know her, you piteous fool?)  
  
_ “ _Charlotte Elizabeth Grace_.”  
  
James snapped to attention at Olivia’s voice, her tone sharp with exasperation and piercing readily the gauze that his brain was seemingly wrapped in. He blinked in time to see his sister foil Charlotte’s nth attempt to overturn her soup bowl. The toddler, unbothered by her mother’s vexation, let out a giggle before once more reaching out to attempt to flip the half-full cup of cream of mushroom on her tray. _“NO._ Young lady, this is really…”  
  
For some reason, Peter’s earlier words echoed back to him. _Distraction. Distraction. The kids are good distractions. From what?_ James inwardly shrugged. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long while.  
  
“Let me take her,” he volunteered, meaning to get up, but Peter had beaten him to it, swooping in to unbuckle his daughter and sweeping her into his arms before she could even react. Charlotte let loose a rich giggle, exhilarated by the movement.  
  
“She’s such a lovely little girl,” Sarah commented.  
  
“Most days, she is.” Olivia replied. “When she’s not acting like her uncle.”  
  
James made a face. His niece was like a live version of the Rugrats mixed with the Bride of Chucky. Sometimes.  “My brand of crazy was  _nothing_ like Charlotte’s.”  
  
“Of course you’d say that, not knowing how you actually were when you were her age.” Olivia gave him a loaded smile. Something that secretly said _go on, dare me._ He wisely took the course of least resistance, but of course Olivia chose to ignore it. “You came just after Christmas, so Mummy and Daddy said you were my ‘special’ Christmas present. I thought you were an angel…I hadn’t known yet at the time how wrong I was.”  
  
Kit seemed to find this hilarious and so did Thomas. “Did Uncle James cry a lot?”  
  
“Well, not as a baby. He was so quiet usually. Quiet as a mouse.”  
  
“Was he a small, tiny baby?” Thomas asked, holding out his hands with a small space in between.  
  
“He was a thin, tiny baby with a big head. He looked like an alien, actually,” Olivia seemed to appreciate as the boys broke out into laughter. Even Sarah smiled. “When he was Charlie’s age…it was just pandemonium on legs.”  
  
“Panda onion,” Kit was cracking up. “Mummy, you’re funny!”  
  
“‘Panda onion’…. It suits you.” Peter grinned as he rocked Charlotte back in forth. A song was playing softly over the speakers that were hooked to the sound system on the first floor. It was an old melody, one even James recognized.  
  
“It _is_ cute,” Sarah agreed, her smile laced with mischief. “Here I was thinking you were born an adult. Luckily you have a sister who gets rid of all notions that you’re some godlike creature.”  
  
“Oh _perish the thought._ Godlike? Please. I have enough baby pictures of him covered in his own—”  
  
“ _All right_ , thank _you,_ Olivia.” James said, before the conversation could escalate any further. “I think that’s quite enough for tonight.”  
  
“But we were just getting _started—”  
  
_ “Enough. You’ll end up showing the actual baby pictures at this rate.” Truthfully, he didn’t really mind. His family getting along with Sarah, even if it was at his expense, did not bother him in the least. In fact, he was glad for it. But at the moment, with him feeling loose and buzzing from the wine, coupled with the music wafting in the air, all he wanted to do was be closer to Sarah, hold her in his arms, dance with her, never let her go.  
  
_Lavender’s blue dilly dilly  
__Lavender green  
__When I am King dilly dilly  
__You shall be Queen…  
  
_ “When I am King,” he found himself saying. Somehow he’d managed to stand without knowing how, and Sarah was with him. She was no longer wearing the same clothes he remembered; instead, she was wearing a stunning silver-white gown fit for a costume party, the material framing her lithe body just so, but the sleeves looking like pillows that had been sewn to her arms. James couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“What is it?” Sarah said, she came close to him. Her face had also changed. Youthful, but her eyes reflected a wisdom beyond her years. Also pain. Why was his Sarah looking so pained?  
  
“When I am King,” he repeated, the words seemingly instinctive. They seemed right somehow, as though it were a chant, or a prayer, although he’d long given up on any semblance of a religious belief. He touched Sarah’s face, felt his cool skin against his fingers. “When I am King…”  
  
“You’re frightening me…”  
  
( _When I am King…_ )  
  
“James?”  
  
( _Jareth_ )  
  
The world seemed to tilt and swirl, Sarah’s face becoming no more than a radiant glow. He couldn’t see her but knew she was there, her presence providing him his own gravitational pull. _She is the sun and all my stars combined. The moon glow on a dark night. The source from which all rivers flow.  
  
_ ( _My Queen_ ).

 

* * *

 

“You’re drunk.” Sarah told him.  
  
“I’m _not._ ” James retorted, although his words slurred a bit as he said them, the vowel stretching out longer than necessary. _Damn._ He tried again. “I’m not, believe me. I was aware the whole time.”  
  
It was true, although he wasn’t going to tell Sarah that he’d seen her wearing something Cinderella would have worn had Tim Burton been her costume designer, and that eventually his vision had faded to white, though he could still feel and hear everything. That was just entirely too bizarre. He started suspecting the wine had actually been drugged.  
  
He had regained his sight at some point and now he was laying on his back on his bed, squinting at the dim ceiling, the white plaster illuminated only by a circle of yellow lamplight. After they’d been sure that he was actually all right and needed no medical attention, Peter had helped him up the stairs, although he complained the entire time that James was purposely dragging his weight (he had been, kind of, his legs hadn’t wanted to work properly). Now his body felt entirely heavy, and although he didn’t feel any pain, he also felt odd, as though his body was instinctively preparing for a bout of flu.  
  
“Sarah,” he called out to her, knowing she was in the en suite bathroom. She was upset for some reason. It had been quite the surprise when his legs suddenly buckled from underneath him as they were in the dining room, but he had stayed alert, although he’d been saying the lyric to the song that had been playing over and over. Just stuck on that one line, as if his brain had short-circuited. He had only managed to stop when one of the children readily bit his finger. “Sarah, love, c’mon.”  
  
“If you’re playing a game, I want you to stop.” Sarah’s voice sounded small, but it could also be that she was a bit of a distance away. “It isn’t funny.”  
  
_What? What a strange thing to say._ “I’m not playing a game. C’mon, love.” He really didn’t want to fight, not when he was starting to feel poorly. He tried another tack. “Did that wine taste strange to you? Was that the reason you didn’t like it? I feel like it may have been drugged.”  
  
“Your brother-in-law and Olivia both had wine, Peter even more than you did. They didn’t suddenly space out and go into a drunken stupor.”  
  
“It was _not_ a drunken stupor,” James was becoming frustrated. He knew what being drunk felt like; he’d certainly had his fair share of it, and he was absolutely sure that this was not it. On the other hand, he also knew how drugs felt: the odd rush, and the strange hallucinations. _Maybe Peter put LSD in my glass to loosen me up. Anything is possible._ “I knew what I was doing the entire time.”  
  
Sarah suddenly appeared in his line of vision, her hair a dark halo around her head. Her eyes were hard and steely, devoid of all color in the dim room. She hadn’t changed or showered yet and was wearing the clothes he had seen her leaving the apartment in: a black long-sleeved tunic over dark jeans and boots. There wasn’t a trace of the Sarah he’d seen in his…vision.  
  
“The entire time, hm?” she said, her tone dangerous.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“What did you say then?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“During that entire time. Do you remember what you said?”  
  
Of course he did, although it felt entirely foolish now. He was willing to risk his pride for it, however. “‘When I am King’. It’s a lyric from the song that was playing. Olivia and I had a Burl Ives record growing up and that was one of the tracks.” Sarah shook her head. “No?”  
  
“That’s not it. You said something else.”  
  
“No I didn’t,” he frowned. “I _know_ what I said, Sarah.”  
  
“You were whispering it, before you fell. I was the only one that heard you because you were so near me: _‘Time is running out, Sarah mine’_.”  
  
_All right, maybe I was drunk,_ James silently conceded. And ‘Sarah mine’? Definitely not his choice of words. It was far too archaic. “All right, _that_ I didn’t know I said. Fine. Maybe I was…a little bit sloshed. Just a teensy bit.”  
  
That didn’t seem to have the effect he hoped it would have on Sarah. Her stoic mask seemed to fade, but was quickly replaced by uncertainty, and then fear. “So you didn’t say it on purpose?”  
  
“Not on purpose, no…Sarah, wait!” He forced himself to sit up as Sarah disappeared from his line of sight. He caught her retreating back as she got her change of clothes and headed towards the open bedroom door. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I also don’t know what you want me to say. I’m as confused as you are."  
  
Sarah muttered something that seemed to be _That’s what I’m afraid of_ before saying out loud, “I just…I just need some space, all right? I won’t leave, but I’ll be in the guest room down the hall."  
  
James felt his heart sink. This was certainly not how he’d envisioned this day to end. The whole situation was too confusing and perplexing. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘I don’t understand’ but it didn’t seem right, and eventually, the silence won out.  
  
“Good night, James.”  
  
The door clicked shut, and Sarah was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was in a cellar of sorts, with damp stone walls that chilled his skin as his finger brushed past. It was dark, and he was cold and barefoot and there seemed to be little to do for him to keep warm. His bones ached with every movement, as though they had grown rusty from disuse. Somewhere above him came the sounds of revelry, as though there was some merriment to be had in this forbidding place. There was a distant firelight that reflected shadows dancing, although they weren’t of creatures James knew. That, however, seemed low on his list of priorities at the moment.  
  
_Where there’s a light, there’s fire,_ logic told him. _Where there’s fire, there’s warmth.  
  
_ The sheer will to survive drove him forward. His teeth chattered as he went, rattling loudly in the darkness, their echo like the clattering of bones. With every step, the pain seemed to intensify, but he pushed on. He had been through worse with his consulting stints in the UN: missions in the most rural parts of the world, exposed to diseases and wildlife, with nary a medical facility in sight. He’d contracted malaria in Indonesia, broken his wrist in Sudan, had nearly been trampled on at a rally in Sri Lanka...  
  
_This is a piece of cake,_ he told himself, although another shiver ran down his spine.  
  
Finally he reached the top of the stairwell. He was in a long stone corridor that was windowless, but that a draft was currently blowing through. His fingers and toes felt like ice and he shoved his hands under his arms to keep warm. There was an open door a few steps away, and floor and walls surrounding it glowed orange from the firelight within. In seconds he had already stepped through the doorway.  
  
He was now back in his sister’s home, but it was now caked in stains and filth. Dozens of furry little creatures were dashing about the living room, cackling, groaning, whistling, and wailing. They smelled like wet dog and soggy carpet and looked like the stuff of nightmares. In the few seconds that he laid eyes, dumbfounded, at the sight, one had already smashed a crystal vase while one with large bat-like ears had actually shat into a bowl of potpourri.  
  
“Didn’t no ones teach you not to stare? Rudey-rude!” the bat-eared one shrieked. “Manners!”  
  
“Yes, manners!” the rest hissed, sounding like a unison of snakes. The biggest one wore a colander on his head and would have looked funny if only he had not turned to stare at James with a cold, crazed madness in his eyes.  
  
“Say your right wordsss, Goblin King,” it said. It inched closer to him, so close in fact, that James could smell its stinking breath. He tried to move away but found that he could not. It held his face in its cold, grimy hand, then, with one swift motion, pushed him off an unseen edge.  
  
_Long live the King._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

He supposed it was instinct. Millennia of experience had taught him most of what he needed to know, but a good part of his magic still relied on his most basic impulses. _Go. Fly. Run. Hide. Follow the urge. No questions._ Not right away, at least.  
  
There had been something wrong the entire night. Things Unseen and Uncontrollable were on the move, and Goodfellow was on high alert. That was why when the urge for him to _Seek Out the Young Master_ _now_ came _,_ he had vanished with a loud _pop_ and was surprised when he materialized on the landing of the stairwell between the third and second floor of the Cabot-Schwartz home.  
  
_Magic,_ he realized, sensing it as soon as he appeared: slow and curling around the railings like fog, and concentrated in a nearby area, so much so that it almost felt like a force keeping him away. But from what?  
  
Goodfellow glanced up, a moment too late it seemed, because the Young Master was there, pale with eyes blank with dreams, and had stepped off the top stair, just as Goodfellow had made to look.  
  
_No!  
  
_ Uncaring for his current form, Goodfellow forced his way through the magic barrier that had been set up, feeling as the distant threads that bound it together ripped and frayed. He managed to reach the Young Master before his head made impact with any of the succeeding steps, and concentrated his magic to form a shield so that the mortal could reach the landing unharmed.  
  
He could do nothing about the noise; he was certain the heavy thump from the instant the Young Master’s’ knees made impact with the wood prior to him creating a shield had been heard throughout the house. No matter, bruises would be believable from a fall. Getting away unscathed, however, was not.  
  
The Young Master had reached the landing with no further injury, and Goodfellow took the few precious seconds to give him a quick assessment. His trousers had ripped at the knees from the fall but he was still deeply asleep. His body thrummed with heat and magic, however, and Goodfellow was displeased to discover his exposing them earlier had had an adverse effect, although that had not been his intention.  
  
_I made lightning, and he was the sea. Of course. Of course. Of course.  
  
_ The house was stirring, and soon he’d have company. The Young Master groaned but did not wake. He curled into himself, his forehead burning with fever. Goodfellow knew it was a natural reaction to the exposure, but he took no pleasure in seeing it. Fickle as he was, he had grown fond of the mortal that shared his friend and Prince’s face, although none of monarch’s wild unpredictability or his bouts of cruelty; he had no desire to see him hurting.  
  
_Wake, young one,_ he commanded, putting a hand on the Young Master’s forehead, his palm extended to cover his eyes. _Wake before you are lost to never ending darkness.  
  
_ He was afraid he might have to do something elaborate in the small amount of time they had, but fortunately mortal will had always been far stronger than anyone gave them credit for. The Young Master groaned as he eased into wakefulness, the fever dream powered by magic that had held him captive slowly fading as it was siphoned away by Goodfellow’s touch.  
  
_Good lad,_ he found himself feeling relieved. _There’s fight in you yet. Just hold on for me a bit longer. It’ll be over soon.  
  
_ He disappeared back into the shadows just before the hallway lights came on.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The version of 'Lavender's Blue (Dilly Dilly)' here is the Burl Ives one, from the older Disney movie. Not the Cinderella one.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between the time the last chapter was done up to the time this one was wrapped up, I was able to see the David Bowie Is exhibit in Tokyo. It was PHENOMENAL. If any of you ever get the opportunity to see it, I highly recommend you do. It wasn't just about him, but it was also about the things that influenced his work; a perfect nod to the artist that was David. It certainly helped in getting this doozy of a chapter out, after about a dozen rewrites. It's getting harder to write it, so all the comments you guys leave are really helpful! :) 
> 
> Onward ho!

Upset and with a penchant for the overdramatic, Sarah had spent the next two hours after her disagreement with James brooding in the bath, torn between her wanting him to stay away from her for the duration of their stay there, and her wanting him to force entry into her bedroom to ask for her forgiveness. The latter, knowing James, was nigh impossible, but Sarah couldn’t help but feel sorely disappointed when she was proved right. She retreated to bed late but found it difficult to sleep. Following the day’s events, her mind still churned and her stomach clenched. She tossed and turned on the (rather large and luxurious) bed in James’ sister’s guest bedroom, and had to talk herself several times out of getting up and sidling up to James’ side in the other room. Pride made her stay where she was, and eventually, she found herself drifting off to a restless sleep.  
  
_Thunk!  
  
_ Sarah’s eyes flew open. There was a sound like something hard landing on the stairs.  
  
_What the fuck was that?  
  
_ She lay, frozen, waiting for another sound that would confirm whether or not she had been imagining things. Her heart seemed bent on breaking through her ribs. She had never wanted to be so wrong—  
  
_Thunk.  
  
__SHIT.  
  
_ Sarah sat up, head turned towards the direction of the sound. _Maybe it’s the kids?_ But there was a baby gate at the foot of every stairwell, complicated enough even for Kit, the oldest one, to figure out. Besides, it was – Sarah scrambled for her phone on her bedside table – nearly 3AM. No kid would be up wandering in the dark.  
  
_Or it could be a thief. Of course if it is, that would certainly take the fucking cake…  
  
_ The memory of a smirk, white-sharp, hungry, and waiting, flashed like lightning from the recesses of her memory. Sarah shuddered, not even daring to think _his_ name. The day had already been strange and discomfiting enough that _his_ sudden appearance through an accidental summons was a legitimate concern. At this point, however, she couldn’t really tell which scenario she would find more palatable: her potentially being an armed robbery victim, or having a faceoff with the denizens of the Labyrinth, specifically their odious King.  
  
_(Time is running out, Sarah mine)  
  
_ She opened her mouth to instinctively call for James, but her voice died in her throat, the old primal fear of Jareth lurking in the darkness enough to make her silence herself. Upset as she was over her boyfriend, she was definitely not going to deliberately put him in harm’s way. The memory of the pair of eyes staring back at her from the mirror this morning made her shudder involuntarily. Only through sheer stubbornness could she find the courage to will herself to calm down despite the growing terror pooling in her gut.  
  
“I’m not afraid of you!” she managed to say, although her voice sounded smaller than usual. She doubted the sound even made it past her bedroom, but it made her feel just the tiniest bit better.  
  
Silence had now fallen around her, making the sound of her racing heart louder than it should have been. Although fear had initially taken over, Sarah’s curiosity burned equally bright. Without thinking twice, she cautiously stepped off the bed, grabbing a pen on the way and holding it out as a makeshift weapon, and made her way towards the door.  
  
The plush carpeting underneath her feet ensured her footsteps were muted and the heavy wooden door scarcely made a sound as she slowly swung it open. Moonlight from a nearby window spilled silver onto the hardwood floor of the hallway. Everything was still, but there was definitely _something_ nearby; the air _felt_ different, and a strong presence hit Sarah like a dissonant note in a song. Her breath caught in her throat, and raw fear shot through her nerves, pulsing inside of her like electricity. Although she still kept moving, she felt like she was walking blindfolded into a trap.  
  
_If I get out of here alive, I will never fight with James again, ever,_ she found herself desperately promising anyone who would listen, her mouth suddenly so dry her tongue stuck to her palate. _And I will give him the best sex of his life._ Her hand inched towards the hallway light switch that was by her doorway. _Please let it not be Jareth. Or a murderer…_ There was a quick hysterical moment when she considered the two ideas to be one, but fluorescent light suddenly flooded the hallway, and Sarah squinted at the space beyond her, eyes stinging at the sudden brightness. There was a heap of _something_ on the landing, and Sarah suddenly grew lightheaded at the shock of blonde hair that caught her eye.  
  
_Jareth, Jareth, oh my God it’s Jareth.  
  
_ But no, it couldn’t be. It definitely could _not_ be the Goblin King sprawled on the floor, not unless he had suddenly taken to wearing t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms. “James?” Sarah asked, feeling thoroughly confused. And then, when the realization fully hit her, that _that_ was definitely her boyfriend, sprawled unmoving on the landing, she nearly flung herself headfirst down the stairs in her haste. “Oh my God!”  
  
It was a miracle she didn’t fall herself in the process but she was very quickly kneeling at his side, breathing fast and doing her utmost best to stay calm. James was lying on his back on the floor as though he had fallen asleep there, although his torn tracksuit bottoms and bruised knees told a different story. He had initially made a sound like a soft groan at her approach, but no other indication after that to show he was all right, or even awake. Sarah made no attempts to raise his head, in case he had sustained a serious injury. She gasped as she brushed his cheek with the back of her hand, feeling the fever radiating off of him.  
  
“James,” she tried to rouse him by tapping his cheek with her fingers, her anxiety growing by the second. _What the fuck happened? Is this some sort of sick prank?_ “James, this isn’t funny. Can you hear me?”  
  
James shuddered when she grasped his shoulder to gently shake him awake, as though her touch burned him. The movement seemed enough, however, and she could see him slowly coming round, although he still didn’t look as well as she’d like. Sweat covered his skin in a thin sheen, and he was so pale that Sarah could see the thin blue veins on his eyelids. It was frightening to suddenly see him so vulnerable, and she was not quite certain what to do.  
  
“Sarah…” His eyes were the only color on his face, but they were glassy and unfocused. “What’s wrong?” He peered beyond her at his surroundings, his expression contorted with pain. “Ow…fuck. Where…why are we here?”  
  
Sarah was able to heave a sigh of relief at his regaining consciousness, but she could tell they weren’t out of the woods yet. She placed a hand on his chest as he struggled to sit up on his elbows. Heat bled through the thin fabric of his shirt as though his skin was on fire. “Lie back down. Don’t move.”  
  
“What happened?” James looked baffled. “I feel so bloody awful. But…but you caught me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I fell. You caught me.” James’ eyes fluttered closed. “Thank God.”  
  
Sarah could feel herself trembling. To steady herself, she gripped his hand, his palm and fingers clammy despite the fever. A level down, a door opened and closed, and hurried footsteps made their way to where they were.  
  
“What’s going on? Sarah? James? Are you all right?”  
  
More lights snapped open, and the walls and hallways were suddenly bathed in bright white. Olivia, looking half-awake but still frustratingly well-put together, was leading her husband up the stairs. Sarah’s stomach lurched as she saw the exact moment when Olivia’s expression changed from confusion to focused attention once she saw her brother lying there, her eyes suddenly morphing into cold steel.  
  
“ _James!_ What happened? Sarah? Who did this? _”_ Her tone had a dangerous undercurrent to it that Sarah made a point to ignore. Olivia and Peter had knelt beside James on opposite sides. Sarah didn’t move from her spot, still clutching James’ hand.  
  
“James, hey man, are you all right? Can you hear us?” Peter asked, his tone steadier than his wife’s, although the expression of panic was similar.  
  
“Of course I can bloody well hear you. I’ve not gone deaf.” He may have meant to sound snarky but his voice was so soft it did nothing to convince any of them. James kept his eyes closed and raised his arm to cover his face. “Could someone please turn off the bloody lights and everyone please stop shouting. You’re making my headache worse.”  
  
“You’re burning up!” Olivia whipped her head round, her eyes pale and wide, silently demanding an explanation. “Sarah?”  
  
Although her anxiety was steadily attempting to choke all sound out of her, Sarah forced her voice to remain as calm as possible. “I was in the other room. I don’t know what happened. I heard a noise and went to investigate, and when...when I came out saw James on the landing.” She couldn't keep her breath from hitching. _I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…  
  
_ “Somebody had _better_ start telling what on earth happened here.”  
  
“Olivia. Stop it. Sarah has nothing to do with it.” James, possibly having been alerted by the raised voices, spoke up, his voice slightly stronger. "Stop scaring her."  
  
"I'm not scaring anyone!" Olivia’s accent had lost all traces of its American-ness now. Her public school vowels came in clipped and sharp, like daggers slicing the air. Sarah saw her glance up at her husband. “Peter, call 911..."  
  
" _No,_ don't bloody call 911!"  
  
"Start explaining then.”  
  
James sighed. “I...sleepwalked…”  
  
“That’s a lie. You’ve never sleepwalked in your _life._ ”  
  
Sarah saw as James frowned slightly at his sister, not taking her change of tone kindly. He glared at her. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”  
  
“Rightfully so since you've  _fallen down a flight of bloody stairs…_ ”  
  
“Oh for fuck’s sake...”  
  
“ _Okay,_ can everyone just take a deep breath for a second and _try_ not kill each other?” Peter said in a tone that hinted at his having mediated between the siblings before. “Jesus fucking Christ…”  
  
“ _Peter!_ ”  
  
“Sorry but—w _hoa_. Okay, James, you’d better just lie back down there.”  
  
Sarah was astonished to see that James had already very quickly managed to pull himself up into a sitting position. He would have looked triumphant had his face not lost all its remaining color upon accomplishing the action. As it stood, he now looked more unwell than ever, although his belligerence seemed to be growing. “The only place I’m going to lie down in is my bed,” he said.  
  
“You need to go to a hospital!” Olivia argued, looking enraged by his stubbornness. “You could be bleeding internally or have a fracture or whatever else.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Why bloody _not_?”  
  
“Because I feel like shit and I want to sleep and I’m not having this argument, Olivia, and that’s final.”  
  
“ _James._ ” Sarah said, equally frustrated now. She couldn't believe this was an actual argument. For all his bluster, his hand was still latched to hers, although his hold now was more a death grip than anything else. “Let’s just get you looked at, all right? Then once that’s done, you can go to sleep and not have anyone bother you.”  
  
“Not you too.” He shot her a look that expressed how betrayed he felt by her taking his sister’s side. “I’m _fine_. I just need some Tylenol and a bit of rest and that should do it.”  
  
His cavalier attitude to his health infuriated her so much that she nearly lost her temper. Instead, she narrowed his eyes at him, challenged by his indignation.  
  
“All right.” She was going to play the game if he pushed her to it. “Since you’re so insistent, I’ll make you a deal: if you’re able to stand right now without so much as wobbling, and be able to walk back upstairs to your bedroom without falling over, then we won’t take you to the hospital. Otherwise, you’re going.” Her tone brooked no room for argument either. She could be equally as difficult as James if she wanted, and now she used it to her full advantage. In response, he raised an eyebrow slightly at her.  
  
“I’m a grown man, Sarah. You can’t _game_ me into doing what you want me to do.”  
  
“Tough shit; I am. In the state you’re in right now, you wouldn’t be able to put up a decent fight even if I _forced_ you to go, let alone fend off three people.”  
  
“That isn’t fair at _all_.”  
  
Sarah didn’t back down, although her hackles rose instinctively at the familiar phrasing. “This is as fair as it’s going to get. I’m not even going to be sorry.”  
  
His scowl deepened, and Sarah knew that he knew he had been cornered. A part of her still went out to him; he really must have felt ill, if the lack of any witty repartee or further arguing was any indication.  
  
“Well?” Peter asked. Olivia had mercifully stayed silent throughout the whole ordeal, possibly having agreed with her tactics. “Can you stand?”  
  
James shot him a look but kept his lips pressed tightly together. A silent admission of weakness. Peter reached out to help him get to his feet, paying no mind that James still hadn’t let go of Sarah’s hand.  
  
“Jesus Christ, you feel like a furnace. You haven’t twisted your ankle or anything, have you? If you have, just tell me, all right?” Peter easily hauled James up to stand, supporting him by his elbows. Then turning to Olivia, he said, “Call ahead to Presbyterian. We can take the car and leave Paula with the kids— _Whoa,_ whoa. James? James?”  
  
Sarah was able to see the exact moment all of James’ remaining energy seemed to dissipate once he was upright. He caught her gaze in the seconds before it happened, looking slightly ashen, and then he wilted against his brother-in-law so slowly that she wasn’t sure it was even real. A look of alarm crossed Peter’s face as he realized quicker than she did what was happening. He adjusted his hold, using the fact that he was built like a linebacker as opposed to James’ lean frame, to his advantage.  
  
“Hey, buddy, stay with us, all right? James. James? _Fuck._ ”  
  
No amount of effort could rouse him, and before the panic fully set in, Peter hefted James in his arms and carried him downstairs.  
  
“Sarah. Olivia. _Move._ ”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

A cry of pain echoed throughout the throne room. The High King fell forward from his throne, his open palms bracing his landing. Although startled, the Royal Guard barely hesitated rushing towards him to keep the king from crashing face first to the ground. Thank Danu there were only a few present. They didn’t know how they could ever explain how their ruling monarch already seemed ready to crumble under the impending destruction they were about to face, and this with the Fae Kingdom still largely intact unlike the others.  
  
“Your Majesty.” The most senior one, Argoron, was the only one brave and entitled enough to speak. “Can you stand?”  
  
“Yes.” The High King seemed almost angry, something Argoron did not want to test. He had muttered something under his breath as well, although the guard knew not what he meant: _The barrier is breaking.  
  
_ “Very well. Would you like to?” He offered his hand for the king to grasp and the king mercifully took it. Once upright, Argoron leaned forward. “Shall I send for a Healer?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“The Queen mayhaps?” The Queen was rarely seen these days, and when she was, she was listless and looked half-faded. And who knew where the High Prince had gone? Argoron was only too fearful to voice his assumptions and thus focused on his duties, banishing all thoughts of the well-being of the Royal Family from his mind.  
  
“No. She is resting.” Although looking directly into the face of the monarch was strictly forbidden but for the closest of the king’s companions, Argoron could see fear directly etched into the king’s expression. It was not a sight he welcomed.  
  
“Would you like to retire early, Your Grace?” Argoron suggested, though he was already well out of his depth. He only prayed the King’s manservant arrive to attend to him, but Goodfellow was not in sight.  
  
“Yes, I believe I shall.” The High King said. He stretched slowly to his full height, as though the very act of doing so pained him. “I would be thankful if this…incident…was kept strictly confidential.”  
  
“Of course, Your Grace.”  
  
“Thank you, Argoron.”  
  
The guard watched as his monarch made his way into the shadows before shapeshifting into his raven form and taking flight out the window, presumably towards the Royal Wing. He could only shake his head in bafflement as the king quickly vanished from view.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  

The hours spent in the family waiting room at New York Presbyterian were nothing short of torture for Sarah. Immediately upon their arrival, James had been carted away and papers had been foisted upon Olivia to seek approval for tests and exams to be undertaken. Sarah, having been rendered useless for the time being, found refuge in one of the empty seats and sought distraction by watching Olivia pace worriedly around the room. Peter whiled away the time by constantly being on the phone to the children, who had woken up too early for a Sunday morning, only to find both their parents, their uncle, and Sarah gone. It seemed no mistake that the three of them now avoided talking to one another; the tension in the room was so great it felt like a single spark could set an argument off.  
  
“Cabot family? For James Cabot?”  
  
Sarah looked up readily at the sound of the nurse stating James’ name.  
  
“Yes, we're here,” Olivia was quick to her feet; she looked ready to pick a fight and _win_. “Is there finally news?”  
  
The nurse, in her early thirties and having the look of someone not easily flustered, least of all by Olivia, tapped the clipboard she was holding with the end of her pen. “He’s with Dr. Singh. Follow me, please.”  
  
Sarah felt her heart hammering in her chest as they followed the nurse through the stark hallways of the hospital. James was in a private room, already changed into a hospital gown and seemingly asleep on a bed surrounded by buzzing monitors. He was still quite pale, although his cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed with fever. The sight of him there made Sarah’s stomach turn; it didn’t _feel_ right or real that any of this was happening.  
  
“Good morning.” Dr. Singh was at the end of the bed, looking through the iPad he was holding. He was tall and had a sharp, angular face that was half-hidden in the shadows in the room. He shook their hands, then introduced himself. “I’m Kris Singh. Specialist in charge of Mr. Cabot.”  
  
“Has he woken up at all?” Sarah couldn’t help but ask. She didn’t know what to expect at this point. “Will he be all right?”  
  
Dr. Singh gave her an easy, amiable smile. “I’m quite glad that I’m able to give you good news after the traumatic events you probably witnessed tonight. To start with, yes, he did wake up a while ago but we had to put him under for the full battery of tests and examinations we had to do: CT scan, MRI, spinal tap—”  
  
“ _Spinal tap?_ ”  
  
“Purely for purposes of ruling out illnesses like meningitis. He’s in the clear for that one, as well as for any head injuries. His knees are a bit scraped but that’s about it. In other words, it’s a modern medicinal miracle, considering he fell down the stairs without any voluntary reflexes.”  
  
There was something odd about his statement but the relief that Sarah felt at the words 'modern medicinal miracle' had released a great pressure on her chest and had her regaining the capacity to breathe, rendering any other emotion insignificant by comparison. Overwhelmed yet comforted at the news, she kept silent.  
  
“But…?” Olivia said, sounding agitated. “There’s a ‘but’ there somewhere.”  
  
" _Darling._ " Peter admonished, then went up to her and started rubbing her shoulders. "You heard him. James is fine." He turned to the doctor. "I'm sorry, we've just all been under a tremendous amount of stress, but that's really good news."  
  
“Well, your wife wasn't wrong.” Dr. Singh tapped on the screen of his iPad. “Ja- I mean, Mr. Cabot's fever spiked at some point to 104 and we had to give him something to help him rest a bit. A fever this sudden and this high doesn’t really happen but then there’s also very little we can do about them until it breaks or some other symptoms manifest. We’d like to keep him under observation for a day or two and perhaps run a few more tests if anything shows on the comprehensive results.” It wasn’t a request.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"A nurse will be in shortly to check on him. He should be waking soon, and we'll know a bit more once he's up. For now, you folks can get some coffee or some shuteye. Should you need it, the nurses will be available for assistance via the call button.”  
  
Something was niggling at the back of Sarah’s mind as she watched the doctor go.  
  
“Excuse me, what did you say your name was?”  
  
The doctor turned around, seemingly surprised, but then flashed her another smile. “Oh. Kris Singh.”  
  
“Okay.” She said. It still felt as though she was supposed to remember something, but her mind seemed stuffed with cotton. It had been too long a night. “Sorry, I was just…thank you for taking care of James.”  
  
“My pleasure, Ms. Williams.” Dr. Singh smiled again. Sarah had never seen a more cheerful doctor. “Don’t fret. He’ll be right as rain in no time.”  
  
He did an odd gesture then: something like a small bow, his head and chest coming forward in a small dip before he gathered himself and left them alone in the room, shutting the door quietly as he went. It was only then that Sarah recalled not telling him her own name.  
  
_Weird, but maybe he saw the records?_ She considered the thought that maybe Olivia or Peter had mentioned it at some point, but abandoned the notion as soon as it came up. _Oh, who the fuck cares? At least James is all right._  She spared another glance at her boyfriend on the bed, greatly relieved now that he was merely sleeping off whatever was given to him, rather than being unconscious, as he had been in the car.  _Thank God, Jesus, Mary, Shiva, Allah...whoever is listening. I owe you one.  
  
_ “Well.” Peter let out an audible sigh, breaking Sarah out of her reverie. It amused her to no end how much Peter looked like James' anti-thesis: broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and with a perpetual tan that seemed more a bonus from his genetic lottery, his Italian-Jewish features made him look like the perfect foil to the Cabot siblings. Olivia's husband also had an easy demeanor, that of someone who did not appreciate complicating something that already wasn't to begin with, and whose face openly showed his emotions. A good liar, Peter Schwartz was not, as his face reflected everything he felt and how much he cared. Cleaned up, he was movie-star-handsome, but under the hospital lights now, he looked much older than he should have, possibly because he was still slightly hungover from all the wine consumed last night. When he caught Sarah looking, he gave her a strained smile. “This has been quite a weekend."   
  
“We’re going to be here a while,” Olivia said, looking equally harried for a change. Thankfully she already sounded less combative than she had been when they had first arrived. “The children…”  
  
“…will be fine. I’ll drop by the house later to get us some things. Meanwhile, I’ll get us some breakfast. There’s an Au Bon Pain across the street. Any takers?” Peter raised his hand. “Sarah? Coffee? Tea? Pain au chocolat?”  
  
“No, thank you.” Exhaustion has caught up with her and she felt slightly nauseated. It was only now that she realized all three of them were still dressed in various sleep clothes. Fortunately, they had all had the good sense to put coats on before flying through the door. Despite it all and the warmth in the room, however, Sarah shivered.  
  
Peter kissed Olivia before leaving, and Sarah watched as the other woman rested her head for a moment on her husband’s chest, as if seeking a familiar comfort. When they were left alone, Olivia wordlessly pulled two chairs closer to the bed and directed Sarah to sit. Sarah obliged, but was still careful about her movements, as though the whole situation were made of glass.  
  
“I’m sorry the weekend turned out to be such a disaster,” Olivia said, just before the silence became too great to bear. Her voice was softer now. “I’m not entirely sure how we ended up here, to be honest.” Her long white fingers fidgeted in her lap. “Though I confess that I had assumed you would both be sharing a room. His bedroom, at least…”  
  
“We fought,” Sarah said miserably. “Not badly, but bad enough that I chose to stay in the other room.”  
  
“Ah.” The older woman shook her head as though slightly exasperated. “That’s a shame.”  
  
“It wasn’t entirely his fault. Some of it was mine…anyway, it’s behind us now. I never thought…” Tears started pricking at her eyes. _Goddammit, NOW you’re emotional?_ “I really don’t know what happened. I wish I did.” It was a statement that would certainly not have won her any Best Girlfriend awards, but she held out the hope that Olivia would understand and appreciate honesty. To her relief, the other woman nodded.  
  
“I apologize if I had sounded…critical…at any point. James…well, he can drive me batty but at the end of it all, I only have one brother. You understand that, don’t you?” Although she spoke haltingly, her tone implied that it was in no way due to her being afraid or intimidated; if anything, she was choosing her words to ensure diplomacy.  
  
“Yes,” Sarah said, because it would be a lie if she said she couldn’t relate to the protective behavior Olivia had over James. She understood it well, having Toby, even if she did not particularly like being on the other end of the situation, bearing the brunt of the ire of another person's older sister. “I get that.”  
  
“James, he…you might think it so silly, but well, let’s just say he was a long-awaited child. It’s no wonder he’s a bit coddled, really. But it’s also the reason there’s such a large age gap between us. My parents had wanted a child sooner after having me, but it just wouldn’t work out. And then…” There was a pause, as if Olivia was struggling to remember. “I was so young then. But I wished for a sibling. I wished _hard,_ you know? I don’t think I felt like I had wanted anything so badly in my life. And then...there James was.”  
  
Something about what Olivia said struck a chord in Sarah. “You…wished?” she asked, but it already seemed a minor detail to the older woman.  
  
“It was fanciful play, really. I just wanted to help somehow. I’m sure he came the right way, wishes or no.” Olivia gave a wry laugh. “Mummy was bedridden for the entire pregnancy. That's when Tiggy joined our staff -- she helped raise James and I -- and Daddy came home around October to help take care of Mummy. He was even there in the surgery for his birth. I was there shortly after to hold him.”  
  
“You nearly dropped me, Dad said.” A low voice from the bed said, and Sarah nearly jumped. Both she and Olivia quickly got to their feet to peer over at James, who was now blinking awake in the dim-lit room and looked entirely miserable. He squinted up at them with a pained expression. Sarah instinctively reached out to hold his hand, mindful of the IV, eager to provide even the slightest sense of comfort.  
  
“I did _not._ ” Olivia probably meant to sound indignant, but her voice was too gentle to have the desired effect. She too had reached out and was lightly rubbing her thumb against his other hand. “How are you feeling, love?”  
  
“What…what in fresh hell happened? Am I actually in hospital?” He frowned at his surroundings. “Damn. I should have stayed asleep.”  
  
“You passed out so we brought you here.” Sarah said by way of explanation. “They’ve been running tests on you since we arrived.”  
  
James groaned unhappily. “That was unnecessary.”  
  
“Hardly. You were _gone,_ James. You can’t blame us for being frightened out of our wits enough to rush you to the ER.”  
  
“I already feel better.” Sarah felt panic bloom in her anew as James made to sit up once more, but already he was faster and seemed stronger. His skin also wasn’t as hot as it had been. “I just _ache_ all over. That doesn’t merit a hospital stay.”  
  
“Hold up, don’t get any ideas.” Sarah warned him. “I don’t want to go through this twice. And the doctor already said he’s keeping you here for a day for observation.”  
  
James scoffed, already fiddling with the call button for the nurse. “They can’t keep me here for a _fever._  They’re just milking my insurance for all its worth.”   
  
“Jamie. Look, why don’t we just ask the doctor? The complete test results haven’t even come in yet. At least rest. What if what you have is just...lurking underneath the surface?”  
  
But James wasn't having it. It amazed Sarah how he even had the strength to argue, let alone string more than five words together to form a coherent sentence, yet there it was. “Bloody hell, if it was really serious I’d probably be in the ICU or a quarantine unit, _and_  still be unconscious. Seeing that I'm in neither and that I'm awake, I declare myself fit to leave. You know how I _hate_ being here..." James stopped and turned to look at his sister. " _Please_ don't tell me you've already told Mum and Dad about this."   
  
Olivia seemed annoyed by the suggestion and bristled. "Of course I haven't!" she said, but her reaction alone seemed enough for James to visibly relax.   
  
"Good. If they call, tell them I'm in top form. Now where are my clothes?”  
  
“James, you’re being _unreasonable._ ”  
  
“No, I’m not—”  
  
The argument between brother and sister halted as someone knocked on the door and a nurse entered, possibly having been alerted by the call button. Sarah was relieved to see her look equally alarmed upon seeing James sitting up and attempting to free himself from the various machines beside the bed.  
  
“Mr. Cabot, what do you think you’re _doing?_ ” she asked, rushing forward to prevent him from ripping out the IV the wrong way.  
  
“Discharging myself as I feel absolutely _fine._ ” James said, but not without throwing a disarming smile at the nurse. “Please, love, could you assist?”  
  
The nurse looked at both Olivia and Sarah with wide eyes. “He’s not been cleared for discharge!” she exclaimed. “You do know that the liability if anything should happen would be with the hospital?” Olivia looked as though she was gritting her teeth in frustration.  
  
“James, _please…”  
  
_ “I’m getting the doctor,” the nurse announced. She motioned towards the two women. “There are cameras in this room and the corridors so I would _not_ advise sneaking the patient out.” She could have slapped Olivia for the expression it caused her to pull, but then was very quickly gone before Olivia could even react.  
  
“Well _I never!_ The cheek of that woman! She won’t get away with speaking to me like _that!”_ And then Olivia was gone as well, storming after the nurse and leaving Sarah and James alone in the room.  
  
“James Cabot, _stop it._ ” Sarah approached him with her arms crossed, but slapped his wrist when he started fiddling with the IV again. He seemed suspiciously high-strung and certainly not the lethargic patient any of them had expected. She wondered if it was a side effect of all the meds they had given him.  
  
“Sarah.” James’ tone was pleading now. “I can’t stay here. _Please_ help me get out of here.”  
  
“It’s not that you _can’t_ , it’s that you _won’t._ What did they give you? Uppers? You’re not a child, and this is not a joke.” When she didn't seem to get through to him, she tried the pragmatic approach. “Look, we’re just scared. _I_ was the one who found you on the landing. You’re lucky you aren’t paralyzed…or dead.”  
  
She hadn’t meant to blurt out the last part but it spilled out of her before she could stop, her voice breaking treacherously at the final word. Tears had already started pooling in her eyes as James’ warmth surrounded her, pulling her towards him enough so he could wrap an arm around her shoulders and place a kiss on her forehead.  
  
“I’m all right.” His voice was gentle, yet no less sincere. “Trust me, it hurt more when we met the first time."   
  
Sarah snorted at this, although she now leaned into his familiar hold. The sound of his heartbeat against her ear was a great comfort. _I'm here,_ it seemed to say,  _I'm here._    
  
“Falling down the stairs is not a cool way to die.”  
  
"Exactly. Can you imagine? I'd be a laughing stock. I can think of better ways to go. Besides, I'm not easy to get rid of. Tiggy used to call me a 'Bad Weed'..."  
  
"You’re incorrigible."  
  
“That too,” James laughed, then pulled away from her to meet her gaze. It was impossible how he still looked good enough to kiss despite the rough night they’d all had, and Sarah had to restrain herself from kissing him right there and then. “Please, love. Let’s get out of here.”  
  
There was a veiled warning in his words. Something akin to _I’m doing this with or without you, but hopefully with,_ and Sarah knew she had to give. Nothing was going to convince James to stay, and she would rather that he be cooperative than not.   
  
“Ugh. You’re fucking _impossible_.” She stood upright. “Seriously?!”  
  
“There’s no legal way they can keep me here. I _have_ done this before. Had to be admitted once or twice in my line of work but I always had them discharge me early.”  
  
“Are you crazy? Why would you do that?”  
  
“I bloody _hate_ hospitals. Makes me feel more ill.” James shuddered. “I had to stay in one for a month, nearly two, after my mate socked me in the eye. Definitely not the highlight of my childhood. If you need to make me stay at least put me in a coma for the entire duration of it; it'll be easier for all of us."   
  
His fever had already broken, and so Sarah couldn't pin the rant on delirium of any sort. "James..."  
  
"If they catch wind of this, My parents will also go barmy, I tell you. If you think Olivia is overprotective, you haven’t met my Mum and Dad. That one hospital stay when I was fourteen scarred everyone for life. If Olivia tells them, I won’t be surprised if they’ll catch the next flight out.”   
  
Sarah sighed. This was going nowhere productive. Besides, she knew that James was bound to get what he wanted sooner or later, at any cost. He was _that_ kind of person.   
  
“Sarah, please.” James said once more, and the expression on his face was clear as day:  _Will you or won't you?  
  
__Goddammit._

“All _right._ All right." She could nearly kick herself; she was as crazy as he was. "But we’re doing this _my_ way, you got that? No exceptions.”  
  
“Bossy.” James made a face, though there was a twinkle evident in his eye. His energy level was still suspiciously high, and Sarah was careful to be wary of it, knowing how quickly anything could change. “But I’m all ears, love. As long as it will entail me getting out of this hospital ASAP.”  
  
Sarah set some conditions to her agreement to back him up on his voluntary discharge before anyone else came back in the room. The first two, which required he follow doctor’s orders and take the prescribed medicine as advised, as well as go to check-ups as necessary ( _Of course, Mummy / Shut up),_ and that he allow himself to rest, at least for the next few days ( _But sex is allowed, yes? / James!_ ), seemed easy enough to agree to, but the final condition regarding his consent to return to the hospital at the first sign of medical trouble, was one James was reluctant about, before finally deeming it a necessary evil.  
  
“You drive a hard bargain, Sarah Williams." James' expression was a variety of emotions: irritation, relief, and maybe even pride.   
  
“I also want the doctor check you out first. I want to hear what he has to say about your current condition." She had expected an objection to this request, but was surprised to meet none. "My decision may change, depending on his prognosis,” she warned.  
  
“It’ll be good." James leaned back on the bed, hands tucked behind his head. “No need to worry.”  
  
His cockiness, normally irritating to an extent, was a relief to experience again. “You really must be feeling better.”  
  
“I am, especially with you being so near.” He gave her a smile that was so cheesy she wanted to smother him with a pillow. “Now if you could be a dear and please get me my clothes? I’m not shy, but I’d really rather get drinks and dinner first before I get _that_ intimate with everybody else…”

 

* * *

 

“ _No!_ Have you both gone completely _mad?_ ”  
  
“You know he’s going to do it anyway, whether or not we agree. I’m not too happy about it either.”  
  
“I’m right here, ladies. I _can_ hear you, you know.”  
  
“You’re a stubborn arse.”  
  
“Legally, they can’t keep him admitted if he’s in the clear on the mental side—”  
  
“Ha! I beg to differ.”  
  
“Real mature, Libby…”  
  
“Ladies, _please_ settle down or I’ll have to ask security to escort you out.”  
  
“Dr. Adler, Dr. Singh had been the specialist assigned to my brother’s case. He was the one who had advised James be kept for observation. I'd like for him to be here, please, when you make your assessment.”  
  
“As I've told you, Mrs. Schwartz, that doctor is currently unavailable. Now, Mr. Cabot, I won’t patronize you; you’re quite aware of your rights. However, I do have to reiterate that if you do get yourself discharged against medical advice, the hospital will not shoulder any liability of any illness or injury caused by the aggravation of whatever it is you currently have.”  
  
“I’ll sign the waiver. I’m not staying here.”  
  
“Very well. I’ll do one last check on you before we get you the paperwork. Sit up, please…”  
  
A minute. Then two. Then five. Then ten. Then twenty.   
  
“Extraordinary.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“The fever’s nearly gone, reflexes are good. No infection. Even if you hadn’t been asking to be discharged, I’d have already done so.  I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”  
  
“That’s _impossible._ How is that possible?”  
  
"Dr. Singh said 'modern medicinal miracle', if I remember correctly."  
  
"I doubt he'd been pertaining to  _that._ " 

“Stranger things have happened, Mrs. Schwartz. Even so, I’m still prescribing plenty of rest and liquids, and to promptly come back if the symptoms resurface. Though it’s quite remarkable, I wouldn’t treat this as an opportunity to test your personal limits, Mr. Cabot.”  
  
“Is lovemaking counted, then? _Ow!_ I’m _joking._ ”  
  
“So done with your jokes, James.”  
  
“As you can see, Dr. Adler, I’m in perfectly capable hands.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“But what about all the other test results? Surely that will still require for him to come in?”  
  
“Not necessarily. When the comprehensive test results come in, we’ll be emailing you, and if there’s anything that he needs to come in for, you’ll all be informed. So far, nothing abnormal has been found. Mr. Cabot appears to be in a state of near-perfect health.”  
  
“Lovely. Where do I sign then?”  
  
There was the sound of the door opening once more, and everyone turned to see Peter, not only laden with bags full of food, but also a large shopping bag of spare clothing he'd gotten from the nearby Duane Reade. The sight of the nurse and doctor in the room made him freeze, then a look of bewilderment overtook his features as soon as he saw James sitting up on the bed, dressed, alert, and looking a million times better than when he had left.  
  
“James,” he said, and for a moment, Sarah thought he was furious, if not for the grin James was giving his brother-in-law. “Buddy, what the _fuck_ did you do now?”  
  
They were out of the hospital by noon.

 

* * *

 

The children were ecstatic when all four of them trooped home later in the day. They clambered all over their uncle as soon as he was sat on the couch, and asked one breathless question after another ( _Didjou throw up? Was it gross? What color was it? / It hurt? You still sick? Ewww germs / ‘Ca Jaaaaames)_. Although Sarah had not minded their presence, it was a little bit more than she was ready for, and both Peter and Olivia had to expend some effort to distract them long enough for both her and James to escape back into his room, where Sarah herded him back into bed.  
  
“You don’t fool me,” she told him as she placed a glass of water on his bedside table. It was mid-afternoon but the shades were drawn, blanketing the room in soft gray light. James was already sprawled on the covers, blinking at her sleepily.  
  
“What? I’m just tired. I was just attacked by children, if you hadn't noticed. One of them had even attempted putting her fingers into my mouth.”  
  
Although he had been initially peppy, Sarah had noticed his energy had started to wane on the car ride back. All three of them including Peter had been watching his movements with laser-like focus, anticipating a prompt return trip to the hospital. He hadn’t had a temperature though, and even now, as Sarah checked, nothing seemed amiss.  
  
“James.”  
  
“Calm down, Sarah.” He patted the space beside him. “Come here. Lie down with me.”  
  
“Hmph.” Sarah crossed her arms but relented to the request. A warm feeling pooled in her stomach as his scent enveloped her. His bed smelled like him: pricey cologne, lavender, and the slightest hint of musk. And _goddammit his sheets are so soft…_ “I’m still mad at you.”  
  
“Yet here you are, sharing my bed.” James raised his eyebrow at her, his eyes glinting. “I should anger you more often.”  
  
“Not funny. I _was_ mad at you for a totally different thing last night, and then you went and sent yourself to the ER—”  
  
“ _Hardly_ my choice.”  
  
“So now I’m just mad at you for making me feel stupid at being mad at you the first time, and also for scaring me half to death.”  
  
James laughed, the low chuckle a welcome sound to her ears. He pulled her closer. “Difficult girl.”  
  
“Oh no, I know your game, James Cabot.” She pushed at his chest, and he blinked back at her with a puzzled expression. “I already did what you asked me to do, and now it's my turn to receive a favor."  
  
"All right...?"  
  
"Spill: what happened last night?”  
  
James groaned. “Love, we’ve been _over this._ I don’t know what I said after dinner…”  
  
“Not that, doofus. I mean the stairs. Do you remember it? Were you even awake?” She _had_ to know. It was just so bizarre. “ _Do_ you sleepwalk? Did you ever do it in my apartment and was I just too dead to notice?”   
  
At this, James frowned. “No, I never have. This may be the first time.” A furrow appeared on his forehead as he seemed lost in thought. “I recall I had a dream, though. Strange one.”  
  
“About…?”  
  
“I don’t particularly know. I was in a dark…dungeon, and there were…things. Everything is hazy now that I try to remember.”  
  
Sarah could feel her heart rate pick up at his description. “Dungeon? What? You mean stone walls and everything?”  
  
“Possibly? It was dark and cold and damp. I’m not even sure why I think it’s a dungeon, to be honest. Could have been anything.”  
  
_(A castle, perhaps?)  
  
_ “Was there…” Sarah licked her lips. “Was there a little girl?”  
  
“A little girl? No. Just a lot of…creatures. Horrid things, really. I don’t know what they were. Nightmarish ghouls of some sort. Then…I fell. And I heard your voice. When I woke up, I didn’t bloody know where I was at first, only that I was glad you were there.” His forehead furrowed. “Trust me, I’m still as shocked and confused as you are.”  
  
_Not the same dreams then. But…similar?_ James couldn’t have dreamt of the Labyrinth, not when Sarah’s own always showed it devoid of anything. In her own mind she felt herself still an authority figure on the subject matter, having been on the receiving end of so many dreams of it for so long, and so rationalized it that way. Still, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that something was going on, that there were larger forces at play. She had been given loose threads, but… _None of it makes any fucking sense!  
  
_ She felt as James tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and so raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “I apologize though. When I invited you to spend the weekend with us, I hadn’t intended for it to be so…eventful.”  
  
Sarah felt bad at this, but decided to deflect it with humor. “The most I’d expected was maybe the kids making a scene if they saw us kissing or something. Thank you for rising to the challenge of making it _even more_ memorable.”  
  
“Ha! That’s being optimistic. I’d expected something along the lines of them walking in on us during one of our more intimate moments…”  
  
She pouted, tracing the contours of his face with her fingers. He was so close that she could see the smattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose and the fine creases at the edge of his eyes, features he hated but that she secretly loved. It spoke of long hours outside, of a love affair with sunshine, resulting in the glorious tan that didn’t render him as fragile-looking as his sister. It was so _human._ “Well, we can’t do that _now_ , with you bedridden…”  
  
“I _beg_ your pardon!” James suddenly sat up, mock anger evident on his face. “I’ve half a mind to ravish you right here and now for that remark.”  
  
“Your ‘personal limits’ must not be tested, Mr. Cabot.” Sarah waggled her finger at him, though she had already started inching backward as James made to straddle her. “James… _James!_ ”  
  
“Sod that fossil, I know my limits, none of which includes having _really great sex_ with the gorgeous woman who’s found herself in my bed…”  
  
He was kissing her now, gently at first and then going deeper as he pushed forward and _oh God I’m going to lose my mind, I’m going to burst…  
  
_ “ _James!”  
  
_ “Mmh?” He was kissing the hollow of her throat and making his way up to her ear. “Yes?”  
  
“The _door_!” She motioned at the bedroom door which was still _fucking ajar,_ but either James had done it before or he was just incredibly agile because he’d leapt off the bed, shut and locked the door, then returned to his spot before Sarah could even move. “Holy shit!”  
  
“Such a filthy mouth, my love,” he murmured in her ear. “Inasmuch as I love hearing you curse like a sailor, I would much prefer you moan in pleasure instead…. Shall I help you dispose of this…thing you’re wearing?”  
  
_Bastard._ “Asshat. It’s _your_ fault I’m still in pajamas.”  
  
“You would look stunning in anything. Or nothing at all.” His hands had already wandered down into her pajama pants and was in the process of moving it down her waist, his long fingers grazing her skin and rendering her nearly insensate as they moved further up and towards her entrance.  
  
_This is insane and a really bad idea, but oh my God does it feel good.  
  
_ “James…” she started to say, but her tone was so unconvincing she nearly laughed at herself. “We really shouldn’t. You’ve just _gotten out of the hospital._ ”  
  
“I fail…” Kiss. “To see…” Kiss. “How that’s of any relevance.”  
  
His fingers were in all the right places now, and Sarah could have screamed with want. She wanted James in her, to feel them coming together once more, to melt the fear and anxiety and be assured that, due to some God-given miracle, he was all right…  
  
_Oh fuck it.  
  
_ She easily fell into James’ rhythm, abandoning all sense of decorum and logic as returned his proffered kisses with an intensity that could have only come from the realization that she had nearly lost something dear. She pinned him against the bed, pulling him free from his shirt and traversing the ridges and planes of his chest with her lips, tasting and savoring his familiar warmth with her tongue. James, enthused by her converted attitude, smiled.  
  
“Changed your mind then?”  
  
“Shut _up_.”  
  
Within her, a voice, dark and familiar, broke through, but Sarah could not be bothered to pay it any heed.  
  
“So beautiful when you’re angry.”  
  
James’ eyes gleamed and his grin grew wider, morphing into something like mischief, and Sarah endeavored to kiss the smirk right off his face. Lost in their light and laughter, the voice in her head was rendered to near-silence, but words were already spoken and, without her knowledge, the final die was cast.  
  
( _I will never let you go.)_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  _“I will never let you go,” Sarah would whisper later in the secret folds of evening as she lay curled up, warm and satiated, next to a now-slumbering James before falling deeper asleep without so much as waiting for a reply.  
  
  
  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story notes:
> 
> 1\. Yes, you can be discharged even if the doctors tell you no. As long as you don't have a mental condition, and if someone vouches for you, it's still your right. (Although I don't work in the medical industry so please don't take my word and please think 2000x before trying it out in real life)  
> 2\. I always imagined the Sarah in this story as a born-and-raised Catholic but obviously, after the Labyrinth, she lapsed in the faith. I maintain, however, that she still believes in a higher power.  
> 3\. I love it when Sarah curses. She has a filthier vocabulary than James, definitely.
> 
> Etc etc. Feel free to ask me in the comments if you have any points for clarification!


End file.
